Loud Traffick
by BegottenSpud
Summary: Lincoln is abducted, and sold off in a child-sex trafficking ring. He endures slavery, exploitation, and much, much worse. Nine years later, and after a long journey, he returns to his home unexpectedly, and he's not exactly the same... and neither is his family. Mature Content. Smut.
1. Ch 1 - Give & Take

**A/N: So I had an idea, and here's the first chapter. I didn't really mean for it to be this long, but it just kept coming. I know there are always a lot of **_**Lincoln leaves and comes back years later**_** stories, but I wanted to take a crack at one myself. Anyway, I drew a lot of inspiration for this story from other well known Loud house fanfics, especially ****Loving Return****, by Devumaru, which I love. ****Actually, the format of this chapter is pretty much the exact same as that story's first chapter, only this one's about my own content, obviously. In a way, I want to look at this story as sort of an evil step sibling to ****Loving Return****, in fact. Also, Nostalgiah's ****A Hero's Welcome ****comes to mind too, in terms of formatting. ****There are a couple references to other LH fanfics in there too, maybe too indirect to notice.**

**Anyone who knows the Loud House fan base knows incest plays a big part, and also harems. This story will be no exception. There isn't any in this first chapter, but I sure plan on it in the future. ****Let there be smut.**

**Let's see how this goes.**

* * *

**Loud Traffick**

** Chapter One **\- Give & Take

* * *

It was a beautiful new day in Royal Woods. The very anticipated first week of Summer vacation was always filled with such jubilance and optimism. It's something that all American children know and love, and have since the late 19th century. The lack of a necessity for a set alarm is a privilege kids and teens everywhere appreciate more than words can say. No deadlines. No responsibilities. The birds sing, the children laugh, and there isn't a cloud in sight above a certain very loud house. The Loud house.

In the bustling, upstairs hallway, the long line for the sole bathroom was no new problem. In order: a little girl with glasses muttered to herself as she solved complex arithmetic on a clipboard, a teen with braces, meant to fix her distracting overbite, told her newest jokes to the small girls behind her, one wearing a woven, pink nightgown that draped from head to toe, the other wearing a much too large blue t-shirt, which hung below her knees. Behind them, a beautiful, ditzy blonde smiled and hummed to her hearts delight, being happy for the even the simplest of things. Behind her, a girl with a pixie cut strummed furiously on her brand spankin' new, Les-Paul _air_ guitar, to the hard rock blasting in her headphones, and next, a jock did morning clap push-ups, while a goth hid her face in a new, dark book, ascertaining her current thoughts on this morning's ruckus in contrast to the eternal darkness that is death. The oldest sister had no doubt claimed first dibs on the bathroom, and was currently inside, vainly abusing her power.

At the opposite end of the hall, a white haired eleven year old jumped out of bed, cracking his back in care free relief. "It's the third day of summer, which means today's plans are to have no plans at all!" He spoke to no one. He was excited to go about his day, surrounded by his loving family. He knew there was a long line for the bathroom, but he didn't let it bother him. Nope, today he decided he was going to continue to-

*_gggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrblgrrgr_*

Some inhuman gurgling reverberated the chambers of his intestines. An acute pressure is felt sliding down the small boy's insides, and it's sudden heft is quickly building in his bladder, surely chugging along like a steam roller.

This can only mean one thing... nature's calling, and calling _now_.

Grabbing his clothes and his towel, he bolts out of his closet sized room to take his spot at the back of the line behind his little sister Lucy. Feeling the intense pressure building up in his bladder, he drops his things at his feet and holds on to his joystick for dear life, prancing around with his knees together, trying to keep his mind off of the problem quite literally at hand.

"Nice moves, dude!" Luna yells, misinterpreting her little brothers desperate prancing, for a dance routine.

Lucy turns around to see him, and starts writing in her book. "This is just what I needed to finish my poem, Lincoln. Your misery is inspiring me, like always."

Lincoln ignores them and looks up ahead to see Lisa exit the bathroom, and Luan walk in. '_It's not moving as quickly today as normal! Why today of all days?_' He thought to himself. The many morning antics of his zany sisters fail to sway the young lads attention, having grown so accustomed to it all over the years. It's unsurprising how desensitized you can become constantly being surrounded by so many people and having no concept of privacy.

A thought appears in Lincoln's mind. He's reminded of this ancient, weird as hell movie he watched about a year ago called _Barbarella_. It's about some really hot chick in the future, who explores the outer reaches of space with a blind angel. Yeah. Being a sci-fi fan can be weird sometimes.

Well, there's one scene in the movie where this bad guy named Durand Durand tries to kill Barbarella with a musical sex machine, and it malfunctions because she's too horny for it to work on her or something, so _he_ starts acting like _she's_ the weird one. Maybe the movie was a little too mature for a ten year old, but he'd seen weirder things in his older sisters rooms— which is actually why he'd thought of this.

Anyway, that scene amazed Lincoln, because here was this machiavellian evil guy trying to become a global dictator and kill her, and he, all of a sudden, makes it a point to demonstrate that she's the oddball in the room. That's hypocrisy manifest. That reminds him of-

"...Lincoln?"

'_Dang it!_' He thought. He'd actually just succeeded for once at getting his mind off of his bladder, and now it's not. Lucy looks at him from behind her bangs.

"I've finished my poem. It's quite poignant. Would you like to hear it?" The seven yer old is proud of her relatively articulate vocabulary, and enjoys sharing with her siblings.

Unable to answer vocally, Lincoln frantically shakes his head, feeling hopeful his sister's talents may in fact be the thing to help keep his mind off the situation at hand. Lucy clears her throat.

_"Finding Solace:_

_Pain, agony, and suffering,_

_Polluting my mind, like gas guzzling._

_Tripping down a dreadful road,_

_I'm on my own, no use in trying._

_There's too much, time has slowed, but,_

_I must trek on, no time for dying._

_Stopping here, I know I've found it,_

_So satisfying, I started bawling,_

_The path there was, now far behind._

_No more searching, no more grit,_

_Sweet relief, for home, I'm calling,_

_So long for this, I've pined."_

Lincoln barely heard it. With his eyes crossed, his grip tightens around his rod. He manages to look ahead to see that, somehow, by the grace of God, Lucy is almost up. '_What the hell? Time flies when your bladder is going to burst, apparently.'_

The door opens after a few more minutes and Lynn walks out with a satisfied grin, having just enjoyed a nice warm shower. Lucy closes her book and heads inside. "Please hurry," Lincoln squeaks out before his sister closes the door.

'_Okay, okay, just wait a little bit longer. Little bit longer, yeah, I can do it. Lucy takes the fastest showers. I can handle it. I know I can. Just think about anything else-_'

His optimistic train of thought was then cut off by a solid smack on his back. His core clenched painfully upon the stressful impact. "Man, Linc, you sure are hangin' in there today," Lynn says teasingly— knowingly. Lincoln replies with a scowl, and Lynn sneers back at him.

'_Please. Please don't do that, Lynn. Not right now. I don't know if I can take any more_,' he mentally pleads to her, trying to tell her with his eyes. His mouth opens, but he can't speak.

Like a blacksmith at work, Lynn raises her hand high in the air and brings it down on his back once, twice, three more times, each time causing her little brother to tighten and contort his body even harder. Luan walks out of her room, and immediately catches on. She gives a playful grin, and walks up to them.

"Lynn, Lynn, Lynn, you're not going to get anywhere doing it like that. Lincoln's actually gotten tougher over these past few months, so you need to try new methods. Remember, 'Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand,'" she quotes her favorite author, Mark Twain, reaching out her long, dangerous fingers. Lisa often gives their siblings classic novels she'd think they'd like as gifts for holidays and such. She says it enriches the soul, or something like that. She gave Luan, Mark Twain books.

Looking down on him with glee, Luan gently touches Lincoln's sides and starts to tickle his clenched abdomen. Lynn joins in, her added strength not doubling, but tripling the pain he's in. Losing control, Lincoln feels a quick jolt shoot up his spine, as his bladder finally starts to breach like a dam in an earthquake. His eyelids begin to flutter, and his lungs convulse, naturally desiring to release a laugh and a leak.

*_click_*

Lucy walks out of the bathroom in her day clothes, and without hesitation, Lincoln leaps inside and slams the door behind him, leaving his elder sisters slightly disappointed.

"AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhaahhhh..."

He had the best piss of his entire eleven years of life. I mean, jeez, that was a _really_ close call. His sisters almost got him this time.

Poor Lincoln, though. Even though they know, his sisters won't tell him just because it's too funny for them— but the funny thing is, he's a guy. He hasn't realized he can just go in the a yard.

After Lincoln relieves himself, he turns the shower on and undresses, stepping in. After a few minutes of lathering, shampooing, and washing his body to be spick and span, he turns the water off, steps out and thoroughly dries off. He then slips, naked, into the hallway and grabs his towel and day clothes off the floor, proceeding to put them on before anyone can see.

As he nears his room, "Kids! Breakfast is ready," can be heard from downstairs, followed by the rampaging footsteps of his sisters. He throws his things on his bed, and follows his sisters at his own leisure. He walks into the kitchen, grabs his plate and takes his seat at the kiddie table, in between Lola and Lisa. Lisa greets him with her strong lisp.

"Greetings, brother unit. I assume you're feeling quite ardent in regards to our familial trip to Royal Woods park?"

"Morning, Lisa. I didn't know we were going to the park today," Lincoln responds honestly.

"Indeed we are. Both of our parental units were coincidentally granted today off from their respective vocations, on account of Dr. Feinstein's diagnosis of influenza virus A, street name "the flu," while the current predicament of the Michigan beef callback is subsequently halting the Aloha Comrade from opening, temporarily. As I'm sure you can already imagine, our siblings are exceptionally ebullient about whatever puerile activities they have planned."

Lana jumps forward, and eagerly talks with her mouth full, "Yeah, Linc! You're going to make mud pies with me, right?" She tears another bite out of the strip of bacon in her hand.

Her twin makes a disgusted face, "Eww, Lana. Show some class! And for your information, Lincoln is going to be playing with _me_ at the park today. Isn't that right, Linky?" The small princess is snide and supercilious, and enjoys moments like these very much.

"Why, you spoiled little-" Lana started to retort, as she prepared to jump her twin. Lincoln cut her off, holding his hands up.

"Girls! I'm going to be playing with both of you today. Don't worry, okay?"

Both girls simmer down and relax their tense little shoulders with satisfied smiles, refocusing on their eggs. "Okay, Lincoln," they simultaneously respond, with noticeably content inflections.

Lincoln picks up a strip of bacon about seven inches in length from the center of the table, and dangles it above his plate, drawing envy from his sisters. He places it on his plate, and grabs a few more. Then he scoops a hefty amount of scrambled eggs, as well. Lately, Lincoln has been feeling a bit insecure about his body, which is really not like him at all. He's not skinny, per se, but he sure hears enough teasing from his older sisters about it. That makes him think, if these girls think he's too skinny, won't other girls think the same thing? Lynn always says eggs are a good way to stay healthy and put on weight at the same time, and he plans on being even bigger than his father someday. His dad's no shrimp, neither. The dude's about 6'2" and while he's not in the best shape anymore, he apparently used to be a bit of a stud in high school. Hard to imagine, but true.

That's what Lincoln wants.

Not to be a sports star, nah, Lynn can have that. Lincoln just wants to be in good enough shape to _look_ like a sports star. Girls love that stuff. Call him shallow, but he's a recently horny eleven year old boy. Sue him. He doesn't know much though, besides the wisdom his other eleven year old friends bestow upon each other at their lunch tables at school, he knows next to nothing about what adult things adults do together. He also doesn't understand why he felt the urge to hide that old poster of that woman in a bikini he found in the attic, mixed in with his dad's old college things, under his pillow. He would look at it every night and feel a fluttering in his stomach. The name at the bottom of the poster said _Farrah Fawcett_, but to Lincoln it may as well have said _Fallen Angel_.

"So, when exactly are we gunna head out?" Lincoln asked.

"I believe our mother unit stated we are scheduled to depart after our midday sustenance."

"Lisa, why do you always have to talk so weird?" Lola rudely asked, earning a disapproving look from her older brother.

"Lola, why would you ask that? You know that's not nice." Lincoln scolded.

"Whoever said I'm nice?"

"It's quite alright, dear brother, and I appreciate your concern. Also, Lola, I believe you meant, 'whomever.' As for your question, I speak with a specifically selected, sophisticated vocabulary for various reasons, like increasing and sustaining my own intellectual quotient, ensuring that my mind develops to its greatest capacity, and also because its simply _that_ easy for me to do. They're _all_ layman's terms to me, so I may as well get something productive out of it, stemming from a doubtful hope that it will provide you all with helpful intellectual stimulation to increase each of your own vocabularies, at least by a small margin. At least Lucy can appreciate that."

That's... actually pretty cool of her. Lisa's so smart, she has genuine reasons for why she decides to talk the way she does. For us, and for herself. Knowing everything _has_ to be boring, plus being surrounded by people dumber than you _all the time _has to get on a persons nerves. Lincoln remembers her once saying some other smart person said 'If you're the smartest person in the room, then you're in the wrong room.' _Yeah, she was saying that to us, for us to benefit ourselves. Imagine it from her perspective. It's almost impossible. It would be terrible._ He's totally fine being where he is— with his mind, that is.

Lincoln then looks to Lucy, who still has her nose deep in her journal. She's probably still fiddling with that poem from this morning. Trying to perfect it. She's another person who's seen as weird because of her originality. She has a great talent, and it gets overlooked so easily. Well, maybe she doesn't actually mind the teasing at school, but she's probably the only one.

Then again, he did take the fall for her once, when she flushed her Princess Pony book, so maybe she does mind. Maybe Lucy isn't as depraved as she gives off.

Lincoln puts his silverware on his, now empty, plate. He sits back, crosses his arms over his very full stomach and continues to watch his sisters bicker, even Lisa. It's so funny how she likes to mediate the twins arguments. She says she doesn't like being bothered with any 'trivial' matters, but she definitely does. She loves it, even though she'd never admit to it.

"Lincoln, are you listening to me?"

Lincoln snaps out of his thoughts, once he realizes he's the one being talked to. All five of his sisters, including baby Lily, are looking at him.

"...Sorry, what?"

"Ugh! Pay attention! I asked you if this pink lipstick or this red lipstick would look better for this weekends Summer pageant? Lucy likes red, Lisa likes pink, and Lana is being _gross_ and doesn't care. What do you think?"

"Are you gunna wear the dress with the bedazzled shoulders, or the one with the white trim around the bottom?"

"The white trim."

"Then definitely the pink." Lincoln said. He then picks up his plate, and heads towards the sink. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with some comic books and a pair of undies."

Lincoln gets up to his room, and strips down to his skivvies in an instant. He leaps onto his bed, and bounces a couple times. He grabs the newest issue of Ace Savvy. In this issue, Ace's backstory is finally going to be revealed. It's been alluded to in the past, but Bill Buck never fleshed it out completely. Today is a big day for comic books.

...

"Hey, Spade, mind if I turn up the heat? It's freezing in here." A young black man, around twenty-five years of age, sits in the passenger seat of a navy blue Bentley.

"Not at all, Jack. Go right ahead." A slightly older white man, about thirty, drives his luxury vehicle.

The two of them are just leaving a black tie, cocktail party. It was a celebration thrown by one of their associates, in honor of the man's father, who was a renowned psychiatrist, known for his research on the influences of drastically different upbringings with children. The classic nature v nurture debate. Besides, it _is_ Father's Day, after all.

"Say, Spade? You mind if I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Jack. What's buggin' ya?"

"Well, I was just thinking that we've been partners for a long time now. You know all about me, you know my parents and the rest of my family, but you've never told me about yours."

Spade sits, shocked by the question. He'd anticipated it being asked at some point— being the worlds savviest detective does have its benefits. He thinks back to his childhood, something he more often than not, chooses to avoid.

A young boy, around 7 years of age, is walking home from school in the bustling city of New York. His home, a luxury loft, on the upper East side, is only a few blocks away, so his parents let him make the trek on his own. He's used to it. It's normal for him to be alone, even when he's surrounded by people. His parents are often busy with their work, and leave him be, or with his caretakers, but they don't speak much English.

His father is an envied stock broker who works on Wall Street, and his mother is a world famous neuro-surgeon. They always buy him lavish things, the biggest toys, the best clothes, and they always throw the most amazing birthday parties a kid could want.

But they never come, themselves.

The boy thinks about his infant sister. She's the only real company he has, and all she does is sleep, poop and cry. Call him weird but he can't wait to get to see her when he gets home everyday. She's his favorite person in the world, and the only real companion he's ever had.

"Gimme your backpack, runt."

Spade hears this over to his right, down an alleyway. He sees a very rough looking, burly boy a few years older than him, picking on a small child who looks to be five years old or so. The younger kid is crying, and the older goon is laughing his butt off.

Spade doesn't like that.

The boy rolls up his sleeves, and walks up to the duo. "Hey!"

The two kids stop what they're doing and look at him. "Oh hey, I know you, dork. You're that rich snot from up town. Spade. Spade Nifty, right?"

"That's right, pal. Now stop what you're doing and leave that kid alone."

The goon bursts into a fit of laughter. The smaller kid, pinned against the wall, watches them both, worriedly with tears in his eyes.

"You're funny, dork. Scram before I pound ya," the goon threatened, but then he had an interesting thought about it. He releases the younger kid, and turns his body to face Spade. "Say, you're so rich, you have to have some sweet loot on ya. More than this pipsqueak, anyway. Come here." The goon lunges to grab Spade, but Spade ducks out of the way, sticking his leg out, and making the goon trip and crash into a pile of metal trash cans with a loud clash.

Moaning, writhing in pain, the goon grabs his head after he gets up, and wobbles on his dizzy feet. He looks to Spade in blurred vision and injured pride, "You're dead meat, kid. I'm gunna tell my dad about this, and you'll get yours. You'll see! Watch your back." The goon hobbles away, in feverish anger.

Thinking nothing of it but empty threats, Spade helps up the five year old, and brushes the dirt off of him. "Are you okay?"

The kid nods and looks at Spade appreciatively— nervously. "T- thank you," he stammered. He suddenly bolts away, and runs down the busy street. Spade can only watch.

Spade thinks again about the older boy's threats, but gives them no real thought. How much damage can one kid do?

Three days and nights pass without so much as a hair out of place, until one dreary night someone finds and sneaks into the exquisite Nifty residence, and their darling daughter was~

"Lincoln!"

Lincoln's immersion is completely broken by the strident yelling of his oldest sister. He rolls his eyes and folds his comic book once Lori barges into his closet.

"What is it, Lori?" He grumbled, looking up at her.

"I need you to fold the laundry that's sitting in the basement. Bobby and I are going to the store before lunch. I need to buy a new phone charger."

"What? No way I'm doing that. That's _your_ chore, Lori. I already did mine, yesterday."

"Tough luck. If you don't do this for me, I'm not driving you to the comic book store anymore," Lori threatens. She knows she got him there. That's his Achilles heel.

Lincoln was about to try and argue, but he looks down to his lap. This comic is only the first of a limited three issue special, and number two comes out next week. _Ugh_.

"Fine..." Lincoln mumbled.

"Good boy." Lori said, before walking away with her head held high.

Lincoln groans and starts his walk to the basement. She can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, abusing her authority left and right. It's not fair. Just because she's older, it doesn't mean she always gets to tell people smaller than her what to do. Sure, maybe it does when they're home alone, but not when mom and dad are here. 'This bites,' as Luna would say.

**Hours Later**

The sun was beginning to set and the sky was gradually changing to a beautiful hue of light pink. The formerly busy park was now emptying, and most of the Loud family was packing up their things.

"Ya can't out run me, Linc. I'm too fast for ya." Lynn stopped and teased with a confident grin.

An out of breath Lincoln, put his hands on his knees, knowing that his sister was right. He couldn't out run her, he never could, but he wouldn't give in so easily, either. He was determined. "I can try," he said, optimistically.

With that, he took off once again through the lush grass, taking a surprise head start. He thought he was in the clear, until he heard a screech from behind him.

"GOT YA"

Lynn jumped from her stride, and grappled her younger brother, pinning him down by his wrists. She sits back, and frees him. She chuckles triumphantly. "Like I told ya Linc, you can't out run me. You are getting faster though. I'll give ya that."

Lincoln was out of breath as he lay weakly on the ground. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.

"Kids come on, we're heading home!" Rita Loud exclaimed, holding her yawning baby, Lily, in her arms. Leni and Luna held the sleeping twins in their arms, as Lisa, and Lucy followed, arms hung, with half lidded eyes. They were beat from an entire day in the intense heat.

"Aww man! Can't we stay a little longer, mom? I only need to catch Lincoln two more times to make it an even 10-0," she asks, jogging up to her busy parents.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but it's time to go. Your mother goes back to work tomorrow, and I have to get dinner started," Lynn Sr answered.

"I can stay here with them," Lori said, not looking up from her phone. It didn't matter much to her, as she would simply be texting Bobby at home just as she was here, on the park bench, all day. "I'll walk them home in a little while."

"Ohh, and I think Lincoln is finally tired enough that he might get a charlie-horse. I'd love to get that on video," Luan requests, holding up her camera to her little brother who was dragging his tired feet behind him the whole way to the group.

Lynn Sr, and Rita exchanged glances, but nodded to each other.

"That's fine, but be sure to get home within the hour. It's wienerschnitzel tonight, and it'll be ready by then."

"Yeah, I promise. We'll be on time," she says rolling her eyes.

With that, the four are left alone in the small park, as their family takes Vanzilla the short ride home. Luan sits on the bench next to the texting Lori, watching the film she already captured today, as Lynn and Lincoln continue to run after one another.

...

**Meanwhile**

Two solid white, windowless vans slowly chugged up to the curb. They parked, one right in front of the other.

"Alright Donnie, you see anything good?" A sharp Japanese-American man in the drivers side seat of the van in front, with short black hair and sunglasses, asked the passenger. Donnie, a giant of a man with long brown hair down to his large dark shoulders, leans forward and peers out the tinted windshield at the park. "Uhh yeah, Emon, there are some young girls out there," he replied, followed by dumb chuckles and lip smacking.

Emon replies slowly, and demeaningly, "That's good, now climb in the back, and wait for my signal. When I give you the signal, what do you do?"

As he's climbing into the back of the van, "I uhh.. open the door and grab 'em, right Emon?"

"_Riiight_. We only need one more kid, then we're done and we get to go home. Ship sails tomorrow. Max and others are waiting for us, so we'd better make this quick. Now, Donnie-boy, get back there, shut up, and wait." Under his breath, he grumbles, "Ya fuckin' moron."

Donnie lumbered into the back space of the van, his huge form shaking the entirety of the vehicle, and again started chuckling ignorantly. He looks down upon two young girls, no more than five and seven years of age, tied and gagged, laying on their sides at his over-sized feet. They each whimper, startled by the commotion and scared of the imposing brute, and yet again begin their recurring bouts of tears.

Donnie positions himself clumsily but correctly in front of the sliding door. There, he waits for Emon's signal.

...

Luan was fiddling with her dated technology. Every time she used it it seemed to break in a different way, as is expected working with such an old device. "Finally!" She said happily, having fit the film cartridge back in the slot, and closing the now reattached lid. She starts to rewind to where she last took off filming.

"HA! 9-0. You have no chance of breaking my streak, Linc. I'm unbeatable," Lynn mocks her brother, waving, bowing and blowing kisses to the imaginary crowd surrounding them.

Lincoln put his arm on a tree to help keep his balance, catching his breath. He didn't like the teasing, even as playful as it was, but he did like seeing his sister happy, and he's been used to it for years. Plus, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't having a little fun too. "You know, Lynn, I don't even get this game. Am I supposed to run anywhere specifically, or am I supposed to just out run you until you get tired before I do?" He jokingly asks.

"Don't know, bro. You haven't lasted long enough for it to even matter," she taunts further, with a smirk.

Lincoln rolls his eyes, and can't help but offer a forced chuckle. He looks down at the base of the tree trunk to see a little black book amongst the fallen leaves. "Oh, dang. I guess Lucy left her journal here on accident. She was half asleep when they left, so I can't blame her," he said to himself, picking the small thing up and slipping it in his back pocket. _She'd be really bummed if she didn't get it back, _he thought.

Standing up straight, he takes a big breath and gets back on topic, "Okay, you're so confident then Lynn, how about this round if you can't catch me, or whatever it is you're supposed to do, I win the _whole_ game, for the whole day. Deal?"

Lynn scoffs and gives a confident smirk once again, "You're on, Linc."

Lincoln turns his head to take in his surrounding, not seeing many options of things to help him win, looking for things that could potentially trip Lynn up. He sees his distracted sisters on the bench, the empty jungle gym, and a few cars at the curb. Figuring all he can do is hope he gets lucky, he sighs, and quickly takes off from the tree, with Lynn right on his tail. He runs past his sisters on the bench, as Lynn leaps over them head first, rolling into a somersault, he runs under the monkey bars in the jungle gym as Lynn freely swings across them, and he starts to get out of breath again as he nears the sidewalk.

He can hear Lynn gaining on him ever so quickly, as his two developing lungs pump to their furthest extents of power. He hears their rapid footsteps transition from the grass to the concrete, and finally he hears yet another screech from behind him.

"GOT YA"

...

That's weird...He heard it but didn't feel anything. As he slowed his stride, he turned his sights over his shoulder to view the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen. Immediately, he felt a wicked agony overcome his nervous system. Terror he never thought was possible consumed him from head to toe, far worse than anything he felt from watching "The Harvester." No, this was... genuine.

But there was no time. No! He had to act. Shoving aside those raw feelings, he felt something primal emerge from within. He felt his brotherly instincts kick into maximum overdrive.

"LYNN," he shouted.

Lori groaned while shaking her head in aggravation, angrily dropping her hands in her lap, thinking her two younger siblings are fighting in public, _again_. They're so damn embarrassing.

"Oh, shoot! Did I miss it?" Luan asks disappointedly, as she eagerly turns her camera in synchronization with Lori's angry glare.

What they see unfolding before them caught them both completely off guard— their little sister fighting back against being pulled into a white van, as their even younger brother desperately tries to help free her. Lincoln had found a new burst of energy, as he charged over to his sister and grabbed onto the enormous meat hooks latched onto her jersey and covering her mouth.

Suddenly, it registered. Lori lunged into attack mode and b-lined it straight towards them on the opposite side of the park. "HEY YOU ASSHOLE, LET HER GO," she screams as she sprints, instinctually ignoring all the other emotions that were rapidly approaching in the back of her mind.

Luan, meanwhile, was overwhelmed, and utterly petrified with shock. She couldn't find it in herself to move a muscle at first. As Lori emerges into view of the camera, Luan somehow manages to look away from the lens, slightly shaking her head, with her mouth agape, now seeing it clearly with two full eyes. It's not a mirage, this is real.

Lincoln's had enough. With all his prepubescent might, he sinks his teeth into the beastly mans right arm, hearing a wail of pain coming from inside the only partially opened door. The man's grip loosens just the smallest amount, but it was plenty for them. In the lucky seconds of the only opportunity they'll have, the two siblings manage to free the iron grip from Lynn's jersey, sending her flying backward like a rag-doll, as Lincoln was accidentally struck in the face by the brutes' meaty paw, sending him straight down to his knees in a daze, gripping his gushing red nose.

Without even a thought to process her current situation, Lynn looked up, laying on her back and panting on the pavement, only to watch on in horror as the large, hairy arm once again reached out and gripped the back of her little brothers polo. They locked eyes— she stared intently into the most frightened eyes she'd ever seen, scarlet blood covering the rest of his young face. His feet flew up and his hands went out for his big sister, as he was fiercely yanked into the blackness of the van.

The door shut.

"NOOOOO," Lori desperately, painfully pleads, sprinting past her sister on the ground.

The tires peel out, as the vans high-tail it out of there. Lori reaches the now empty parking spot and stops running, tears violently coming down her enraged face, now becoming acutely horrified. Lynn pushes her adrenaline ridden body up, for some reason feeling heavy as cement at the moment, and forces her way to her oldest sister.

Through her tears, Lori unlocks her phone in her shaky grip, and starts typing frantically. She starts to speed walk, clumsily, back towards Luan after the van drove out of sight. She manages to somehow, confidently exclaim, "Okay, alright, I- I got the plate number, *sniff*, I'm going to- Lynn‽ Lynn!"

Lori grabbed Lynn by the shoulders and shook her repeatedly, trying to break her out of her thousand yard stare. "Lynn! Look at me, I need you to call mom and dad right now! Tell them what happened, okay? I'm calling the police," she says, fighting hard to not break, holding the phone up to her ear. It all happened so fast.

Lynn didn't really hear any of that. She barely heard "mom," "dad," and "police," but nothing more. She put her head down and shook it hard, like a dog trying to dry itself from the rain, snapping her focus back on reality. The world was silent and slow.

She stumbled over her running feet, to Luan, who was on her knees, crying hysterically in disbelief as she tightly clutched her video camera to her chest. Lynn looked to the bench and saw her sisters phone. Picking it up, she dialed their home number, and as soon as she heard the faint "Hello," of her sister Luna, her own rushing wave of emotions crashed and she cried too. She held her tears back only well enough to spew out the most necessary of words to answer Luna's many immediate and concerned questions.

"_L-_ _Lincoln's gone_."

Things were going to change for the Louds.

* * *

**9 Years Later**

Things did change. Things were bleak. Life hasn't been easy for the Louds, suffice to say, since Lincoln was stolen away from them— but life continued. For years, the family grieved and lived submerged in their mass heart ache, each in their own, individual way.

The outside world seemed unappealing for a long, _long_ time, and they tended to stick to themselves and stay in their home. However, the common saying _time heals all wounds_, while more often than not, inaccurate, could be used from that outside world's perspective as a description of the Louds, and for good reason too. Such all around, incredibly talented people always find ways to use those abilities, even in the roughest of situations.

...

Lori, for the first few years, denied her depression, as terrible as it was. She denied herself any sympathy, and took the reigns for all responsibility in the house. She took the blunt of the workload, as her parents and siblings grieved. She focused only on them, which, in turn, was the inevitable breaking point of her relationship with Bobby. He understood her situation, and did his best to help her through it for a long time, but he was young too, and just couldn't handle it in the end.

The breakup was the point where Lori finally acknowledged her depression. Not long after, she broke and cried. She became open and eager to improve and heal, and did just that. Once she reached a secure place, she applied for some classes at Royal Woods community College, received good grades and inevitably made it into the University of Michigan. There she entered the Law school and graduated top of her class. Over this period of time, she dealt with her depression, gradually improving and finally accepting her brother's abduction.

After graduation, Lori applied at many different locations, and found work at a large, notable law firm in the city, and quickly made a name for herself there. Coincidentally, years after they'd last seen each other, she bumped into Bobby Santiago one day, not having seen each other for the long years since their breakup. They'd hit it off. They started going out and quickly found the love they had for each other years earlier, and got engaged.

Now, at the age of 26, Lori was to be married in only a few months, and makes a very substantial income as a well respected prosecutor.

...

Leni's story is significantly less eventful than that of her older sister's, but no less impressive. For five long years she grieved, secluding herself to the confines of her bedroom, doing nothing but lay in bed for most of that time. Lori leaving the house was _hard_ for her when that time came, and made things decline further for Leni. Her parents quickly saw this, and scheduled her weekly meetings with a therapist who made house calls.

Never quite getting over her brother's loss, she improved nonetheless and started, once again, making clothes: a uniquely venting art expression. She eventually submitted her design book to an agency in the city and was picked up immediately. Her designs became the latest trends of each different season, and having such incredibly quick success, inevitably, she ended up making a brand of her own. Well, her brand spread across the nation, then across the seas, as her clothes sold in stores worldwide. Her business is primarily run in Michigan still, not wanting to leave the majority of her family members, but she also has locations in Los Angeles, Milan, Seoul, and London.

Now at the young age of 25, Leni Loud is one of the most popular and well known names in the fashion industry, among the ranks of Calvin Klein, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton.

Also, she and Lori decided they wanted to be roommates, or more specifically, flat-mates, again in the city, in their own luxury suite. Bobby doesn't mind, so long as Leni has her own room. Luna also stays with them from time to time, when she comes back in town.

...

Speaking of Luna, she had one of the rockier roads of all the sisters, which is really saying something. She began to stay away from the house, missing curfews or staying out nights entirely, often fighting with Lori and her parents about it, and going to parties to try to take Lincoln off her mind. She began to drink, then she tried drugs which led to harder drugs, which led to addiction. This whole time, she hadn't played a minute of music herself, claiming to have given it up.

One night at a concert out at Royal Woods lake, Luna was arrested for possession of narcotics. This was a big moment for her. She saw the acute disappointment her family had shown her, and vowed to change. She went to rehab, and she started to play her music again.

Her band with Chunk, George and her girlfriend Sam was discovered one lucky night, and were fortunately signed to a record deal. They began to tour the states, and as her absence was already typical to the family, they simply wished her both luck and love when she set off into the world.

After a few months of living the dream, one night on the road, Luna came back early from a party. She walked into her hotel room and lo and behold, Sam was riding George under their sheets— she was being cheated on. Luna snapped. She kicked George out of the room, and instead of talking reasonably with Sam— the seemingly lovely girl who'd stayed by her side through high school and all the tragedy Luna and her family endured, she beat the hell out of her, and drank herself into a near coma on the bloody floor.

Sam pressed charges. Luna was arrested and kicked off the tour and lost her contract. After a short break, she was going to AA meetings regularly again, then she went on a solo tour with another agency that fortunately took a chance on her— a chance some would say she didn't deserve. She inevitably made it big on her own, and far bigger than she had with her old band.

At the young age of 24, Luna Loud is one of the most widely listened to modern musical talents in the world.

...

Then there's Luan. Being so abundantly optimistic, no one would expect her to take the loss of her brother the hardest, but she did. She fell into one of the deepest, most crippling depressions a person can have, Leni being the only one to compare to her in that regard. In this time of low spirits, going without so much as a laugh over the years of loneliness, she realized the only time she ever felt truly happy was when her brother was home. She realized, much to her chagrin, that she had been lying to herself for years on end, and that she had actually been in love with her little brother. It was a revelation, a strange and unexpected one, but a revelation nonetheless. These thoughts didn't sit well, and led to her routinely cutting herself on her arms to feel... something, again.

Over time, she only got worse— far, _far_ worse. She refused to see the home therapist with Leni, arguing to the point of near violence, and started leaving the house at night, but not with Luna. She had become desperate to feel again, and her desperation eventually made her snap. She would sleep all day, and go out at night in search of stray cats or dogs, and lure them into a leash or a crate. She would walk them back home, take them in the garage and subsequently torture them. Though she vomited the first time, it quickly became easy. It didn't start out that way, but that's what it led to. It was something no one— not even she could have expected, but she had finally found something that made her laugh again.

By sheer luck, one night Lucy saw her from up on the roof, writing a poem. She told Lisa and her parents (the first time talking to them in what felt like years), so Lisa performed a psychological exam, one of the few times she'd unlocked herself from her lab and came out. She studied Luan's mind, and diagnosed her with severe Erotomania for Lincoln, stating it was only a matter of time before she started killing and laughing at humans too. She was simply too dangerous.

Luan was institutionalized.

She was in the hole for a few years, going through the normal routine one goes through while in such a place, much to her family's disappointment. After a few years, however, she was released under house arrest, at first, and after time she could try to lead a normal life again, taking an abundance of medications, and being under very strict supervision. The medications worked, for the most part, and to Luan, those things she did seemed only like a bad dream. Nevertheless, they _did_ happen, and she's still somehow... off.

In her spare time, Luan began to make Instagram videos, just simply passing the time at first— but they were very popular prank and joke videos. She quickly drew a surprisingly large, niche fan base of over a million followers once it had been released that she had been in a mental hospital, and that niche fan base only grew from there.

Luan, at only 23, lives as one of Americas most popular Internet personas, with well over 40 million followers.

Although, her family is still quite scared of her, and honestly, how could they not be?

...

Lynn had it rough too though, mind you. She blamed herself for what happened to Lincoln, quitting all sports in self punishment, and constantly thinking _it should have been me, it should have been me_, over and over for at least the first few weeks after it happened, if not months. It took a while to get out of that habit, but still never really went away. She just couldn't get the fear in his eyes out of her mind.

She became angry, then angrier, then not just angry, but she became a bully at school, getting in fight after fight. She lost her friends because of it— ironically, the only people she was ever nice to from then on were her younger sisters, swearing to protect them at all costs.

One day at school, she bullied the wrong people, and was beaten pretty severely and was hospitalized for it. She broke seeing her family crowd her in her bed, and apologized for everything she'd done.

Making progress, she began playing sports again, at the high school across town after being expelled, and trained like never before. She quickly refound herself, worked hard and got a soccer scholarship to the University of Michigan, like her high school boyfriend Francisco, who was headed there too for baseball. They helped each other train and eventually fell in love. Lynn now focusing only on him, soccer and jujitsu to relieve stress.

During her senior year of an eventful college career, she qualified for the US Women's Olympic soccer team and played for them in Russia— becoming the star of the team and subsequently, captain.

At 22, Lynn was an Olympic gold medalist, and freshly pregnant with her first child.

...

Lucy was an odd case, no surprise there. She kept to herself mostly growing more depressed, and grew even quieter, sticking to her thoughts and to her poetry. She did, however, pick up the habit of spying. It wasn't out of malice or because of any perversion, she just wanted to keep tabs on them. It was really out of compassion. She spied on her entire family, and wrote poems about their transgressions, until she saw Luan that one fateful night, "accidentally."

That shocked and scared her— it woke her up, in a way. She began to write seriously again. Eventually, when Luan was institutionalized, Lucy made sure to make constant visits, without telling their family, feeling for her big sister and wanting to help. Lucy used her talks with Luan to help her write grand poetry, and wrote about her brother as well. She submitted her works to some State Competitions and actually won. Finally recognizing she had a great talent, she began to write a horror novel.

At the age of 17, Lucy was a best selling author, and planned on attending either Harvard or Yale the following year.

...

Next came the twins.

Lana. The poor girl was despondent, and as depressed as a six year old could be. As bright and gifted as she was for her age, she didn't quite understand why her brother wasn't coming home. She was very young when he was abducted, and as sad as she was, she was certain that it scared her to her core.

By Lisa's diagnosis, Lana developed phobias called Separation Anxiety disorder and Agoraphobia. She _never_ left her twin's side, except when she would burst into tears and throw tantrums upon having to leave for school. Eventually, her parents let her stay and get home-schooled, but she had to see the therapist Leni was seeing, as well. Lana just waned to improve and to help her family and especially her twin.

She made strides to get better, and could eventually go into the yard comfortably, then even to the store with her parents, then lastly, after much hard work, to school again, but it took time. She focused on her handy skills, working on fixing the house and Vanzilla on the daily. She did however, always avoid Luan. She was terrified of her. _The animal killer._

Lola didn't get sad like her twin, no, she grew angry, like Lynn. She grew a grudge and kept to herself as well, only really talking to Lana at home. Her anger was palpable, as well. As things go, word of the Loud boy's abduction had spread through the town like wildfire. One smart-ass boy in Lola's and Lana's class, a year after Lincoln's abduction, mind you, thought he could look funny in front of his group of friends, and teased the young Lola about it and about her twin's problems too. He was young though, and didn't fully understand, but that's no excuse. Lola, ever unforgiving, did _not_ appreciate it. She grabbed one of her colored pencils off her desk and stabbed him clean in the shoulder, violently, then smacked him repeatedly, pummeling him, until a teacher eventually pried her away.

Lola was expelled, and was forced to do homeschooling with Lana. She was also banned from pageantry, which only made her angrier. She would take it out on anyone in earshot, and snap on a dime, so she too had to see the therapist for anger management. Making progress over time, she and Lana helped each other and their family as much as they could, but being careful around Luan once she got back from the institution. Sadly enough, as they grew, they only remembered glimpses of Lincoln, but remembered how special he was to them and to everybody.

Later, Lola decided she wanted to do something with her life, and asked Leni for help in modeling.

Lana and Lola, both now 15, are content with their trades, and have shown tremendous success— both gaining notoriety for being so successful at their age.

...

Lisa stuck to her lab and to her work. She was galvanized, and searched day and night for ways to find Lincoln over some seriously grueling years, with no luck, however. Like Lori, she had denied her emotions, and didn't acknowledge that healing had to be done. She wanted to help her family, though, even if she didn't see them very often, so she invented some things which she sold to the American and British governments— keeping the best things to herself of course. The world isn't ready for everything yet. Weapons, to be more precise, are what she sold them. She invented slightly better weapons to help the more ethical of the world powerhouses keep the world peace. She gave most of that money to Lori and her parents to do with it what they pleased. It really helped with all of their expenses, and they had a lot.

It had been years— she dropped out of school, only coming out for food, and to help her sisters by diagnosing them with whatever problems they'd developed. She does still care for them all, lovingly.

Never finding a breakthrough or any success at all in the search for Lincoln, even though she'd invented some things lesser minds wouldn't even comprehend, she struggled not to become cynical and depressed, herself, and eventually broke. She was young, and as unbelievably smart as she was, she couldn't handle it and cried, hugging herself, alone, in her lab under the house. An older associate of hers, a mad drunk, even suggested replacing him with another Lincoln from another dimension, but she considered that to be the ultimate failure, so she didn't listen. That would be cheating.

She came out of her lab after that, and chose to heal herself, and even started bunking with Lily again. She read philosophy each night, and eventually improved— philosophy being something she'd respected before, but never utilized or studied. Both the ethical and the logical subjects helped ease her into a nicer state of mind; one with a bit of warmth. Always remembering everything is difficult, but if you know the right way to deal with it, it becomes easier.

Lisa, at only the age of 13, is undoubtedly the smartest person in her world.

...

Lastly, there's the young Lily. This very cunning, petite bundle of joy had grown up without a brother, having no recollection of him whatsoever. The only things she knows about him are from the few pictures hanging around the house, like above the fireplace, and the very few stories her sisters would tell her about him, whenever she would try to help them out when they were sad.

Anyway, besides her intense interest in her brother, Lily was also interested in all sorts of other things. She likes old movies, cartoons, video games, dancing and especially art. She was a regular Jill of all trades too, spending a lot of time with her sisters— when they'd actually let her be around. She's also the only one not scared of Luan, only feeling deeply sorry and wanting to relate to and understanding how her big sister felt.

Lily, nearing her 11th birthday, is a very talented girl.

...

Success and talent though, as it happens, are fickle, dreary and unfulfilling. They make things easier, and livelier, but the Loud family's heart ache never quite went away. Their successes shouldn't fool anyone, the loss is still there, and deep as ever before.

They continue on, still living their daily lives, slowly but surely moving on from their harsh pasts, and looking to their bright futures instead, as well as they can.

The Loud parents stayed mostly normal throughout, obviously going through their own severe grief for some time, but they both knew they had ten other children to be there for and support. So they did, and they are ever proud of the wonderful careers their children have made for themselves so far, even if their roads were bumpy. Also, they are extremely proud and appreciative of Lori and Lisa, having helped their family so much while they both were out of commission, so to speak.

...

Currently, it was 1:00pm on a Saturday. Luan sat in the living room, and naturally she was alone. If anyone was ever in the room with her, besides Lily, they simply ignored the awkward vibe. Lana still didn't like her though.

Luan's thoughts were always so enigmatic, whether or not she actually liked having her loved ones be scared of her, no one could tell, and if they could tell, they wouldn't dare talk about it. Not out of fear of being punished or anything crazy like that, but because they just didn't want to be overly presumptuous about someone in their family. But _still_...

Lily walked down the stairs, jubilantly humming to herself, and carrying her favorite paintings of her own making. She set them up on the far left side of the couch, next to Lisa's super computer on a floating desk. Floating. Literally _levitating_. Those display stations were both next to: Lynn's gold medal in its case, Luna's favorite guitar in its stand, and the first draft of Lucy's novel. Its all here for a reason too.

Today is a big day, but an odd day for them all. Lori and Leni are driving in from the city soon, and should be here in just around an hour or so. Also, Luna flew back in town two days ago, and Lynn drove in that same night, too. For the first time in a long time, all of the Loud sisters would actually be in the Loud house.

Lily smiled joyfully upon thinking of them all being here. It makes her heart feel happy. Luan looked over her shoulder, away from the tv, to watch little Lily meticulously set up her things in the prettiest way possible— her eyes glassy from her medication. Her parents made sure she took them today, today of all days especially, because of the interview.

The long running television show _60 Minutes_ is doing a special feature about their family this afternoon. They called weeks ago, asking relentlessly if they could. The Loud parents left it up to their kids, who all seemed fine with the idea. The special feature is apparently about the American Dream or something, and they're supposed to be the modern ideal.

Luan nearly laughed when she heard her parents say that.

"How does this look, Luan?" Lily asked.

Luan blinked. "Looks kee-ute, Lily. Very vibrant."

Lily smiled at her and began humming again. She walked around and sat on the couch, brushing the wrinkles out of her violet skirt with her hands. If there were any wrinkles in it at all, Leni would insist on ironing it. Lily wanted everything to be perfect in advance, for when they got here.

Luna and Lynn both walked down the stairs, and Lily smiled brighter.

"Are you girls all ready for later?" Their mothers voice asked them from the kitchen door frame.

"You know it, mom. If they ask me to play a song, I even have the perfect one picked out," Luna said.

"That's great, sweetie. How about you, Lynn? The morning sickness wasn't too bad today was it?"

Lynn put her hand on her still flat and toned stomach, "Nah, it's fine, mom. It's actually not too bad today." Just then her phone rings in her pocket. She pulls it out, "Oh, it's Francisco. I've gotta take this," she said, before walking into the dining room.

Luna walked around the couch and around the table of accolades behind it, and flopped down in her father's favorite leather chair. She opened her phone and started looking through her old Instagram posts. She has just a couple million fewer followers than Luan. That's not exactly special in this house, though. Leni is right there with them.

...

**Meanwhile**

Across town, in Royal Woods general hospital, a man watches as the bodies of the injured strangers he'd just helped save, wheel away into the ER. He loses sight of them as the doors close, but he stands and lingers a moment longer before moving, brooding like a forlorn king.

He sticks his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, and begins to walk down the sterile white halls. It's a large hospital and he was lucky to get those people here with enough time to spare. Those people, a young couple, he'd guessed —kids really— a boy and a girl, both probably juniors in high school, were in a car flipped on its back as he rode by on his Harley. He pulled them out and quite literally threw their limp bodies on his bike across his lap, and sped here. He had no other option. The road was desolate, and cold in this Michigan winter, with no other cars in sight— and he doesn't have a phone. He's lucky they didn't lose balance and crash on their way here. But they didn't.

He didn't know their names before, and he's not gunna stick around to find out. He's just glad they have a chance now, because of him. It might even make him feel better for a short while, but really, that's not important right now. His tainted conscience is of no concern to anyone but him. Plus, that's not why he's here. He came to this town for a few serious reasons, and at long last, too.

As he walks, he looks into the rooms of the many sickly and injured people here, many young, but more old. He's certainly a stranger to neither death nor suffering, being quite familiar with both, in fact. That, however, doesn't make it any easier to look at.

He walks in search of a particular room. He knows someone is here; he'd read about it in the paper a few weeks ago. This old Navy vet had a heart attack in the middle of an honorary parade, and he'd bet that man is still here. Not only that, but the old vet also had-

"Where are you? Where did you go?"

The young man heard a far older man's voice repeatedly calling, weakly, for who he'd guess would be an attendant, from the room to his left. He looked around, up and down the hall, and didn't see anyone but a different older man up ahead, slowly trudging along in his hospital gown, leaning on his iv for support. The young man looks to the room number and, what do you know, it's the room he'd been looking for.

Trepidatiously, the young man entered. He carefully walked up to the bed with his back still to the door, looking at this withered soul call for help. The old man doesn't take notice, and his irises are grey. _He's blind_, the younger man realizes. He sits in the chair in astonishment of how this man now looks, and grabs hold of the clipboard hanging off the wall, and looks it over. He only understands the basic readings, but he already knows what the old man has. He'd already known, sadly, and it managed to pierce his hardened shell. The old man is familiar now, only by name and by blood. It's his grandad.

He's honed in on the moment, as tends to happen to him now. It's a habit he'd developed over time, and out of necessity. His mind was so focused on studying the old man before him, he couldn't have looked away if he'd tried. He hadn't even noticed the large cracks in the window, or the blurry television up in the corner, playing _Grown Ups 2_. He sits, simply reveling in their existences and about their reunion at long last. It's not how he'd hoped it to happen. This man was his idol.

"Lincoln?"

The young man's, yes, Lincoln's, eyes shoot up at his Pop-Pop, and his breath catches.

"Lincoln, where did you go?" The voice is so frail and weak it's almost hard for Lincoln to listen to. He's pleading.

As his Pop-Pop continues to call out, Lincoln's breathing becomes rapid, and he begins to sweat a little. He scoots forward in his seat a little bit. He begins to want to speak and tell his Pop-Pop he's here, and even knowing his grandad's now blind, Lincoln slowly reaches his hand up towards the black beanie he's wearing, to remove it and reveal his still ashen-white hair.

"Sorry about that, dear," the young man's quick reflexes make him turn on a dime towards another old voice behind him. An old woman this time. His breathing evens out.

"He has dementia," the old woman said, calmly, yet curtly, as she walked up and around to the opposite side of the bed near the window. She takes a deep, solemn breath and exhales. "It's been so much worse since that heart attack." She spoke to the young stranger like an old friend, but he knew she didn't recognize him.

"All he's been able to do since then is call out for our grandson, Lincoln. His loss was so difficult for us." Her expression makes Lincoln think she's been all cried out about it for a long time, as he can see the pain in her eyes looking at his grandpa. She grabs one of his hands with both of her own and the old Albert seems to mellow out and relax his tensed body, laying his head back down with an odd mix of ease and defeat.

She looks up at Lincoln from Albert, not recognizing it is in fact Lincoln she's talking to, "And who might you be, young man?" She asked, sweetly, but curiously.

Lincoln hesitates to answer, thinking of an excuse he'd come up with in preparation, having expected something like this might happen. He clears his throat. "I- I'm actually a veteran myself, ma'am. I belong to an organization, where young vets come and visit our elders. Share war stories, and things like that." His deep, normally smooth voice quivered a small bit, but not enough for his old Gran-Gran to notice.

She looks at him, eyes lidded, but nods her head. "Well, that's very sweet of you, dear." She'd aged terribly since he'd been a child, Lincoln noticed. She was always so lively for an old bird, and now she uses a cane and looks her age. "That's very sweet," she repeats, "but sadly, it's no use with dear Albert. He's not much one for conversation anymore, I'm afraid."

Lincoln nods. He takes another long look at his grandpa, barely recognizing his small form, wispy hair and mustache. He smiles fondly, remembering their old adventures, but starts to feel a deep and real sadness. He wants to reach down and take the old man's hand in his and hold it dearly, but he restrains. "Yes, ma'am." He stands up, and tugs down on his long, thick, black coat, hanging down to his feet almost. He clears his throat again. "Well, I'd best be heading off then." He starts quickly backtracking towards the door. The woman's face shows him she's surprised with his abrupt exit. "H- Have a good day, ma'am."

Lincoln moves out of the room and walks fervently down towards the exit. He's felt some terrible things in his relatively young life, but what he's feeling now is new and not pleasant. His grandpa laying sick in bed, on his last strands of life, and his Gran-Gran looking like she's aged so much. Even just being in the same room as them. Then he thinks of his immediate family, and wonders where they are. _Why the hell aren't they here? Why aren't they trying to help? _He thought, almost resentfully— accusingly. He furrows his brow.

Outside, he straddles his Harley, the soft purr of the engine begins to roar, as he pulls out onto the snowy road— the ice cold air chilling the gruff stubble on his face, but he's used to far colder. This is nothing.

Over the ride to where he's headed, he thinks about how it won't be good to greet his family in an angry mood. He squeezes the handlebars tightly and clenches his jaw. He hasn't seen them in, shit, nine years now. Nine years. He's a different person. They're probably different people too. They _have_ to be. He knows that to be true about a few of them already, seeing them online or on tv or other things like that, but the others? No idea. His grandpa— the monumental man he looked up to in his childhood, is so very different, he acknowledges, so they must be too.

He doesn't know how he feels about it. He's not sure yet. So he takes a deep breath, chilling his lungs, and thinks that however he feels in the moment is just how he's gunna feel. This isn't something you can plan...but he would if he could.

Eventually, he pulls up to the curb across the street and puts the kickstand down. He sits on his bike and just stares at the house he remembers so well for a few minutes. Simply contemplating. It's quiet over there, but he hears something directly in front of him.

He looks forward to see a large, black pickup truck with a logo plastered on the side. _60 Minutes_, it says, over the image of a clock. The truck bed is down, and there's a lot of equipment in it. A woman with a face for tv wears a thick, yellow winter coat, and stands next to the tuck bed, her arms crossed and her teeth chattering. She's on the phone. In front of her, her equipment manager, Lincoln guesses, is unloading what they need.

"Come on, Earl!" The woman yelled into her phone. "I don't care how many cars are piled up, drive around them!"

"..."

"Earl! Don't you flake on us! I am _not_ rescheduling this. I want out of this hick town as soon as possible... Earl? Earl!" She groans openly, and her equipment manager stands up straight, looking at her. The man stifles a chuckle.

"Earl's not coming!" She yelled at him. He knew that already. "Can you work a microphone and a camera at the same time? Of course you can't!" She puts her hands on her hips and taps her boot.

Lincoln dismounts his motorcycle. He sees the woman look at him.

"Hey! Hey, kid!" Lincoln looks at her, as she turns to face him. "Can you work a camera?" She asked him.

Lincoln looks at her. He raises a brow. "Uhh.. well, I-"

"Good." The woman came over and grabbed Lincoln by his coat sleeve and started pulling him towards the truck. She picks up the large tv camera and hands it to him, firmly. "I'm Denise. I'm a reporter with 60 Minutes. This is Chucky," she gestures to the other man. Chucky says a simple hello.

Lincoln inspects the large, fragile device in his hands, inquisitively— surprised to be holding it. "What's all this about, anyway? Why's a tv crew in Royal Woods?" He asked, getting to the point. He'd been too young before to have ever known or cared about news shows like this, but he can piece together that's what it is.

Denise looks at him. She actually speaks about her work with some semblance of genuine enthusiasm, "Them," she said, pointing to his old house. "We're doing a special on this family. The Loud family. It's pretty amazing actually, there's ten siblings, all girls, and they're all incredibly talented people. Some are famous already, maybe you've heard of them." She leans in and grumbles to Lincoln, "And apparently, the only brother was abducted about 9 years ago. Pretty amazing story if you ask me."

Lincoln looks down to the camera then back over to the house with its deep red door, and thinks this will be an interesting way to reintroduce himself to his family.


	2. Ch 2 - I'm an Architect

**A/N: Here's the second chapter! Firstly, I'd just like to say thank you for all of the positive feedback. It was a pleasant surprise, and I'm very grateful for it.**

**This important chapter was confoundedly difficult for me to write, what with the off-kilter flow of it, as it's a bit unorthodox, and also with the liberties I've taken with their personalities. If you get the impression that they're too different, be sure to stick around a while, as I do think it all fits the story nicely. Some parts of this may seem repetitive relative to the first chapter, but it all serves a purpose.**

**I'd also just like to say, good smut to me is never rushed, so I intend to take my time with it and develop the relationships naturally. I will not rush this story, so please be patient. Also, I have a very busy schedule with school, work and life, so these chapters may come out slowly, but as long as I keep having fun with them, they should keep on coming, so we'll see. My last story was a particular project of sorts— definitely different than this one. I purposely speed wrote those chapters and didn't put much prior thought into them, as a challenge to myself. It was fun and interesting in that way, but that's not the case with this story. I'm taking my time with this one.**

**Another thing: I'm admittedly not very good at tagging stories with the appropriate genres, so I just thought I'd let you all know that I might change one of them at some point. If I do, I'll inform you.**

**That's all I have to say. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and have a nice summer.**

* * *

**Loud Traffick**

**Chapter 2 **\- I'm an Architect

* * *

**Beat the Clock**

**-The McCoys**

Lincoln stands outside in the cold, having just walked up the porch steps, and having yet to once again reenter the first home he ever knew. He looked out into his surroundings, at all the familiar, neighboring houses— the street looking like nary a day had passed since he'd last stood where he stands now. He moseyed over to the left side of the vestibule, scuffing his boots on the aged wood, and leaned his arm on the white beam.

He, Chucky and Denise had already filmed the pre-interview introduction outside, in front of the house. Working the camera is pretty easy, surprisingly, and Chucky helped him get the hang of it quickly. Denise did her whole spiel about the family, without getting into specifics of course, and without any mention of him.

Now he waits. Patiently, might I add.

He looks at the large blue van in the driveway, as it ever so slowly gets sheeted with a snowy blanket. Hard to figure, but Vanzilla actually _does_ look older than he remembered. He didn't think it was possible, but seeing it now, it's clearly true. Then he looked up to Mr. Grouse's house just over the roof of the car. Lincoln wondered if the grumpy old somebitch was even still alive. Back in the day, Mr. Grouse was sort of like the _Mr. Wilson_ to Lincoln's _Dennis the Menace, _always being a hard stick in the mud for his sisters and him. Those were good days. The complex moue Lincoln wore turned to a slight smirk upon thinking of that. It helped to calm his incandescence.

Yeah, Lincoln's still pretty vexed. It's odd for him— being a, normally, very stoic person, he's accustomed to hiding any emotion he feels, usually effortlessly. It's what he learned to do over these past nine years to help him survive, but far, far underneath that tough exterior, there's a very solid foundation of acrimony.

Maybe that's partially _why_ he tries so hard to repress his feelings most of the time. He's hurting, and he hides it well. Maybe he even hides it from himself on occasion.

But not today.

Lincoln's not only angry about Pop-Pop though, he's just angry about a little bit of everything, nowadays. He's angry at life, and simply being here is bringing it out of him. He's still a determined person, maybe even more so than when his family knew him, but now he carries a chip on his shoulder everywhere he goes— only inevitable, after seeing the things he's seen and doing the things he's done. His mind is also altered in another way— one much... umm.. _worse_ way, in his opinion, but he successfully keeps that under wraps most of the time. It's much more subtle. And even though that all may be the case, Lincoln has no interest in showing his family how different he's become. Not until he's good and ready, that is. These changes are not ones he's proud of. They're not things he wanted. But how can you hide that? How is a person supposed to emulate their former self— arguably, their better self, and hide who they've become?

Lincoln doesn't have the answers to those questions, but he's going to try anyway, as best as he can.

He's been trying to relax out here, while Denise and mainly Chucky set everything up in the living room inside. Denise said they'd come tell him when it was time for him to come in, and he's just fine waiting outside for the moment. He's glad he hasn't gone in yet, to be honest. He'd rather see his whole family at once, wanting to rip off that initial prospect like a bandaid. They won't know who he is at first, not until he finds the right time to reveal himself to them anyway, but he rightfully thinks there's actually _never_ going to be a good time for a thing like that, is there? It's just another bandaid to tear off.

Lincoln raps his fingers on the chipped paint on the wood. _Shit, they all probably think I'm dead, _Lincoln thinks. That's something he's thought of before, hundreds of times over the years, in fact, but it's always daunting, nonetheless. It's part of what makes planning this so hard. It's part of why you can't.

_Damn, I could use a cig right about now, _he thinks. He fills his lungs with the bracing, cool air and exhales slowly.

This should be a happy experience. It's supposed to be this big, grand reunion, isn't it? He gets to see his sisters and his parents again, after such an _achingly_ long time. The many flushing memories of his rough past make his mind fuzzier than it should be. This is an emotionally confusing time for him, that much is obvious, and his reaction has yet to be salubrious in the slightest. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Chucky comes outside wearing a black t-shirt, and wipes the sweat from his brow. "We're ready to get started, kid," he says. It's just another day of work for him.

Lincoln turns around to face him and nods. He tries to look casual as he follows the man inside. The first thing he does is grind the sludge on the bottoms of his boots off on the floor mat. Without looking up, he turns back around to face the now closed front door. He removes his long coat, and hangs it on the coat rack right next to the entry way. His grey, three-buttoned, long sleeve shirt is tight on his strong physique, and he leaves his beanie on, not yet wanting to reveal that oh so obvious part of who he is.

He takes a breath, and turns around quickly, leaving no hesitation in his movement, and immediately he notices most of his family members looking at him, some even staring, and with odd expressions to boot.

He stares back a moment with an expression equally as odd. What he doesn't realize though, is that they're staring at him the way they are because he's... well, he's quite handsome. Notably handsome. Not like a pretty-boy though, more like Clint Eastwood or Harrison Ford used to be. Rugged and alluring. The girls took notice, as many of them are now beating red with blush because of it. The twins are the most notably flushed, what with teenage hormones and all.

In this packed living room, each of his ten sisters sat on either the couch or on one of many kitchen chairs surrounding it, in a collage of vibrancy, from oldest to youngest, left to right, and their parents stood behind them all, next to many impressive looking accolades. His parents were both wearing smiles, no doubt proud and excited something like this is even happening. How could they not be? Four of their children are world famous. That's just incredible.

_They _are incredible. Lincoln can't take his eyes off of them.

He recognizes each one of them and their drastic differences, and tries his best not to stare back at them longer than a normal stranger would. He walks behind Denise, who's sitting in her fold out chair, to grab the bulky tv camera, practically stifling his breathing the whole time from unsettled nerves. His body is tense under their many eyes, and he feels them watching his every movement as he gets into position, only trying to remember what Chucky had instructed him to do. Lincoln gulps, his face begins to flush, and his hands shake, until he finally breaths again. Silently, he successfully hides the smoothest breath he can muster, in an attempt to ease his rapidly palpitating heart, and he scolds himself because of it. _Why the fuck am I getting all worked up? This is bullshit! What am I some kind of pussy? Fuck that. I'm a man._

He sits in his own fold out chair to the side near the fireplace, stationed intricately between Denise and his aberrantly relaxed family, for easy view of them all on the camera. Denise has her clipboard in her lap, no doubt filled with her many well researched questions, and Chucky stands behind her, holding the fuzzy microphone overhead of them all. Lincoln turned on the camera and began to record. It really is that easy— not to downplay camera work, but as far as what they told him to do, it's as simple as that. Especially because of all the editing they're going to do to it afterward.

His nerves quickly start to fade and he manages to pass actual glances at his family, analyzing them with scrutiny and intrigue atypical to him, as Denise begins to ask her questions.

"Alright, is everyone ready then?" Denise asked the large bunch.

Each of the family members looked around and all said various versions of "_yes_."

"Great!" Denise was excited. She clapped her hands together once, then adjusted the placement of the small microphone on her business coat— something she does habitually and mindlessly.

Lincoln's family _is_ different, too, of course. He was right, as he knew he would be.

Getting good looks at them now, and though mostly the same, he can see they look hardened, not unlike himself. He wonders why that would be though.

_Damn, mom and dad look terrible_, he thinks. Lincoln's father had developed a bit of a temper, that came along with his frequent drinking some years ago. It was how he coped, and as stupid of a decision as it was, drinking so heavily for a few years probably took a few off his life, to be blunt. He's put on a couple pounds, and lost all of his hair now, besides the evenly trimmed sides, peppered with grey. His mother looks relatively the same, just with heavier bags under her eyes and a more sluggish posture, like someone who's tired all the time.

The first question Denise asked was to Lori, so that's who he looks to first; his eyes moving slow as molasses.

As Lori begins to talk about her work, and what it was like being the oldest sibling in this exceptional family, Lincoln studies her features as one would an amoeba through a microscope. She definitely looks older, but not too old. Her hair is a bit longer than he recalls, she's wearing more makeup, but not too much, and she's dressed like a professional— a politician or someone else important like that. She's also, on her left hand, wearing an engagement ring or a wedding band, Lincoln can't tell which.

He looks around, out from the camera lens and at each of them. They _all_ look older, and at least as drastically different as Lori does. He obviously knew they would, yet it's still somehow a surprise.

_They're all so bloody different_, he thinks. He continues to look at them though, through his anger and scrutinizes them accordingly as Denise moves her attention to each one of them in age order for the interview. He studies their features and their clothing choices. You can learn a lot about people by how they dress. Lincoln's learned that lesson well, over time.

Leni, as Grace Kelly-esque as ever, is wearing an equally as beautiful, turquoise top over white jeans, no doubt all of her own design. He'd found out she'd made it big, beforehand, and how could he not? He literally saw people on the streets wearing clothes with her name on the tag. What a surprise that was. Anyway, her left ear has two piercings now, and she looks a bit thinner than he would have expected. She's developed a fantastic figure, no question there, but she looks like she doesn't eat much, or at least didn't for quite a while. Lincoln really knows what that looks like, first hand. He also notices that the ageless twinkle she always had in her eye, has now apparently faded away.

Luna's skin is paler than before, but not clammy. Still, it looks smooth. Her hair is a bit shorter than he recalls and it's buzzed on the left side, but he knew that already from when he saw her on TV one night last year. Talk about caught off guard. She has two tattoos that he can see: a small number on her wrist, that he can't make out, and one small broken heart behind her ear. She's wearing a tight purple shirt, baring her midriff, with "Pigeon Song" across the breast, along with black jeans and combat boots. Her breasts finally came in, not to mention, and so did her ass. Lincoln cracks his neck quickly.

Luan looks relatively the same, although with perfect teeth now and generally much more developed than before. She also kept her pony-tail, and wears a yellow and white thin-striped shirt with black jeans. She's wearing a small, novelty squirt-flower on it still, pinned to her ample chest, and apparently, in this case, some things never change even if the foundation it's on does. The flower, I mean.

Lynn, Lincoln notices, seeing her up close, is fit as fuck. That said though, she's still pretty womanly. He twists his lip upon sight of her again. Although most of his grown sisters seem the same height, even sitting down, Lynn is by far the shortest at probably 5'4. She probably hates that. She's wearing a white sweat suit with red stripes down the sides, and has her ears pierced now. Her right foot is insistently and rapidly tapping in its Nike Free-run, he also notices. Her hair is still long, same as before, and she's wearing it up in a messy bun. If Lincoln could guess, she's actually wearing a small amount of makeup too. Maybe it's just because of the interview though.

"Hey, do you mind moving back towards me a bit. I want to change the angle slightly." Denise broke Lincoln's train of thought, but he did as instructed. He picked up his chair and moved back toward her. Denise gave a nod, approving of the new shot angle, and looks back to her clipboard. "Alright then, lets get back to it. Lucy, you're up."

Back at it and closer to Denise, Lincoln looks towards the quiet Lucy, darker than ever in aura, but with skin still fair as a ghost. She's apparently blossomed through puberty and genuinely resembles this actress... he can't recall the name of at the moment. She has an Italian name though, he remembers that much. Anyway, she's much taller now, obviously, and Lincoln notices, even though she's lean, her behind is perked firmly on its wooden chair, and is big relative to the rest of her frame. He shakes his head at himself and blinks. She's wearing a tight, black and white striped dress with black nylons underneath. Her hair is in a ponytail, but her bangs are still quite shielding, as for her wild eyes, he still can't see. She sits motionlessly as she answers Denise's questions, as coyly as her literary reputation admits.

The younger ones are all so different, just as Lucy is. Far more significantly than the older ones, that's for sure.

The twins are in high school, same as Lucy, Lincoln surmises based on their ages. They both kept their long blonde hair, though one's is unkempt and with double ponytails, while the other's is pristine and shimmeringly clean, and they both have all their teeth now. Lana is speaking with her gruff voice still, sitting lackadaisically on a kitchen chair faced forward, and is still wearing that same red cap as before, now faded and backward. She's also wearing a tight, grey-blue long sleeve shirt with "Fix it Yourself" bolded on the front and with the sleeves rolled up, while also wearing loose, tan work pants with hanging suspenders. Lola, on the other hand, sits with the posture of royalty, and is wearing a tight pink shirt with, "My, My Bartertown" on the front in small white print, and a hot-pink headband with a small tiara on it, and navy blue jeans with pink converse shoes. They look about how he had guessed they'd look. But it pinches at his chest to think so. The veins in his neck begin to constrict from the stress he's putting on himself.

More and more questions are asked, and Lincoln quietly absorbs all the answers his many sisters give Denise, hearing the majority of their admirable stories each for the first time, with the exceptions of only seeing a few of them on screens before today. They are mostly mature now, he can tell from each of their explanations, and he can't help it, call him a fool, but it makes him angry again. They're all so damn successful, and they accomplished it all without his help. Without his even being here. Then what good was he when he actually was here? Didn't they need him? Didn't they give a shit that he was stolen from them?

Fuck. This is pretty weird though. Lincoln feels uncomfortable, too, on top of his rage. He thought this could be interesting, but it's just _odd_. He'd originally thought they'd all be reintroduced together and at the same time, but him learning about them first, without them even being aware of it? It seems creepy, in a way. Not right. It's the same way he felt this morning with his grandpa— their grandpa with alzheimers, they left alone to rot in his hospital bed, damnit. It's not what he wanted. This is surreal, and it's making his currently choleric self, simply irate.

"So, Mr. and Mrs. Loud, how do you two feel about all of this? Being so commonly called the forbearers of the modern American Dream, and to be the parents of such wonderfully accomplished people— you must be very proud," Denise asked.

The aged parents look at each other and at their kids, softly, with lipped smiles. "Oh, of course we are. We couldn't be more proud of the wonderful things they've been able to do." Rita said.

"We're very proud that they're celebrities and so successful and all that, and people can call us what they want, but we're still just their parents, and we'll never stop being just their parents, first and foremost. We feel we have to remind them of that every now and then," Lynn Sr. said.

Denise cracked a smile at the sight of the parents' genuine fondness of their kin. Their love is palpable and apparent to her. It's touching.

"And what about your son?"

...

They all spun their heads on a swivel to look at the cameraman.

Lincoln couldn't help himself. He asked it confidently, too, and it seemed like it just flew out of nowhere. His eyes aren't as clear and separated emotionally from these people as Denise's are, but he knew that already.

Not just his entire family, but Denise and Chucky stare at him, all utterly appalled. The interview was almost finished, it was nearly over, and here this random guy just goes and ruins it out of the blue.

Focused, Lincoln sits vigorously— expectantly, and looks at their faces and gaping mouths, waiting for an answer. It seems he simply caught them all too off guard, so he continues, "Remember? Your son, Lincoln. How do you feel about what happened to him? Or did you forget?" His cadence comes off as hostile and bitter, but he doesn't mean it to. He just couldn't wait anymore, and he's downright pissed. It was bothering him too much, so he ripped off that last bandaid... but some blood trickled out of the wound.

Finally, someone says something. "Hey, you'd better watch your mouth, buddy." Lynn points at him threateningly, deciding to speak for and defend the group. She's pissed now too, that much is obvious. Lily started to whisper something to Lisa, no doubt curious about the sudden, peculiar tension in the room.

Lincoln was about to add on and respond to his pugnacious sister, but Denise leaned towards him before he could, quite peeved herself, "What the hell are you doing? I thought we were clear on this, you sit there, stay quiet and record, and there'd be 50 bucks in it for you." She held the clipboard up over her face to block her words, embarrassed about the lack of professionalism.

Lincoln glanced at her for only a moment, but immediately looked back to his family. His focus is honed. He saw how mad Lynn was, and he got a sick thrill out of it. It stirred something loose in his insides, and his adrenaline began to release. His fingers are itching for more. With narrowed eyes, he stands up firmly, drops the camera, and his chair falls over behind him. He thinks of his grandpa. "Why _should_ I watch my mouth, Lynn? What are you going to do about it if I don't?"

Lynn stands up immediately and squares up with him despite being nearly a foot shorter and freshly pregnant, but Luna and Lana get up to hold her back just before she could do something serious and elevate this situation.

Lincoln leans forward slowly, slightly towards her— Lynn still being restrained by their sisters. "You want to hit me, don't you? Because I talked about your _wittle bwuther_," he teased her harshly, but that one hit them all. He can see the ferocity in Lynn's eyes, and the mixed shock and horror in everyone else's. He snares ever so slightly. He raises his voice this next time, passionately, as he stands back up straight, "Yeah, well you're not going to hit me, do you know why?"

But there's a lull in the room, letting his throaty yell reverberate in their many perked ears. They look back at him, indeed, wondering why.

He looks at them all, their puzzled and complex expressions rapidly passing back and forth, but primarily aimed at him. His mind, God only knows why, brings him back to the park— the last place he saw them all, and the last place they were all together. The last place they were all truly happy. Where they were innocent. He blinks a few times, and swallows. With clarity now, he can see that his family isn't just looking on at him, they're actually looking on at him... in fear.

_Oh... Oh fuck, _Lincoln thinks.

Suddenly, and just like that, he's becoming very aware of how severely unkind he's being. He's being cruel, and now he knows it. He'd finally just heard himself speak in his terribly harsh tone, and a vibrant wave of reality crashes upon his bleakness, waking him up, in a sense, as if from a nightmare. He visibly flinches, and looks at each of their expressions, clearly this time, and he knows he's right: the younger ones and his parents do look very concerned, and only now he remembers how he didn't want to show them this new— this _worse_ version of himself... and he now also realizes that he'd already just failed at that. He was about to keep it going too, and elevate this situation further. His heat cooled before things went too far, luckily.

He looks into Lynn's eyes; hazel as they are, and familiar. Behind that acute, mature rage she harbors towards him as just some random, trialing stranger at the moment, he sees her for who she once was. He sees her eyes as they were that day in the park, still thinking of that sunny afternoon, and he remembers how he reached out for her, and called for her, and when he _was_ just her little brother. That fear... it never left her. In this moment, he sees she's still that vulnerable, little girl laying on the rough cement, derelict and left a forsaken witness. He sees now, how he was blind to the possibility that she actually might be in pain too, just as he is. Just as they all may be.

Since he paused and the challenging flame in his chest began to fade and dwindle, Lori stood up and walked firmly to match him, indignation in her glare and with her shoulders back. She looks up into his blue irises without blinking and without breaking contact. She speaks low and slowly, as if she didn't want to accept that she had to at all— her lips nearly quivering, "What right do you have?" The low, scolding intensity in her voice drew his and everyone else's sharp attention. She continues, louder, "What right do you have... to come into _our_ home, and mock us about our _own_ brother?" She seethes air through her teeth, "..A- are you some kind of asshole, or are you just _so_ stupid, that you actually _wanted_ to put yourself in danger like this?" Lola too, had gotten up and stood next to Lori, equally as angry, and with her arms crossed. Her cheeks were still aflame, but with a different kind of heat than before.

Lincoln looked around and realized the whole room was now standing, all eyes still on him: some with concern, some in contempt and one pair with hidden amusement, but that, he didn't notice. No one would.

Trying to find the words, he opens his mouth to reply to Lori. Despite their respective trade in height, he still crumbles under her stare, same as he did as a boy, and as if not a day had passed since the last time it had happened.

She cuts him off first, taking another step forward and shoving him in the chest. "_Well?_" She expects to be answered.

Not wanting to continue though, Lincoln sighs, and his defensively taut shoulders slump. His whole demeanor visibly turned from inculpation to a mix of sorrow and shame. He blinks again and looks away from his oldest sister, abruptly feeling like he needs to sits down. This isn't what he wanted.

He takes a heavy, unsteady step back from her, and opens his mouth again, letting it hang open as he folds his tongue. It's dry, like he were buried in sand. He quickly walks around the couch toward his parents, but stops midway. Their eyes follow him. Denise and Chucky are still incredibly embarrassed, and quite frankly, don't know what to make of any of this.

"Look... I- I think I may have gone about this all wrong," Lincoln said, rubbing the back of his neck. There was a noticeable lack of assuredness in his voice, something freshly, but apparently common for him today.

Lincoln clears his throat. His usually well carried body language being so suddenly and noticeably less baleful, lets the rest of his unsure family ease up a bit as well. "I'm, uhh... I'm sorry I said that, Lynn... everyone. This... this isn't how I wanted you to see— it's not how I wanted this to go... it's not how I wanted to meet you again." He shakes his head once, sharply, mad at only himself now.

The stillness of the room hangs heavily and stagnantly. They all look at him and at each other, and wonder what to make of this.

"If I may, what exactly do you mean by 'again'?"

Lincoln looks up from the carpet, and looks at Lisa; her ever curious eyes distorted by her glasses, which are now in smaller frames than they were when he last saw her. She also now spoke without a lisp. He really looks at her for the first time today. Her hair is long now too, and in a ponytail, but it's up and to the side. She's thin, and wearing an overly loose green sweater, dipping down her shoulder a bit, along with interesting, tight brown corduroys, that only go down just past her knees. It looks like Leni did her shopping for her.

"Hold on a second." Denise steps forward and talks through the awkwardly tense situation, baffled and still peeved her days work was halted. She holds up a finger and speaks with her hands. "Do you mean to tell me, you knew who they were this _whole_ time, and you _planned_ to come here? ...You let me think-" she stops talking and groans, furiously. "Okay, you know what, I don't need to deal with this kind of low brow, bullshit. I work for 60 Minutes, God damnit." She began to grumble harsh slurs to herself about rednecks and what have you, as she grabbed her coat, walked out to the front and slammed the door.

Chucky sighed apologetically, and followed her with his head slightly hung. He grabbed his own coat, and passed one more look at the family again with an unreadable look on his face, though no doubt out of annoyance and a mix of many other things. He must be used to Denise's impatience and haughtiness by now.

After the door closes, the family looks back to the man before them. Their expectant eyes pierce him, immediately.

Lynn tore her arms out of her sisters' grips. "Are you going to explain yourself? Or are we going to have to throw you out into the snow?" She said that angrily, and with a scowl. She's eager for either that option or some other more violent one.

Performing under pressure is something a lot of people struggle with. Often, they get nervous, sweaty, and think they're going to fail, even if they end up doing fine. Lincoln is not one of those people. He wasn't before, and he's _certainly_ not at this point in his life, but standing here now... today, and at this moment— this tense juncture is starting to eat away at him. His palms are becoming slick, his knees wobbly, his muscles limp, and his head light. He struggles to find the words, already having dug this hole he's in quite deeply.

Lincoln hesitated to respond. "Look.. maybe you should sit down. All of you." He gestures to the couch, as he slowly walks to the front of the room himself, near the tv, and stands waiting for them to do what he recommended.

Some annoyed scoffs are voiced from a few of the girls, and one of them even mumbles a "This better be good," as they all reluctantly find their seats. The Loud parents pull up chairs as well, and so now the entire clan patiently expects some form of an explanation.

Lisa, though, didn't sit down. She stood straight as an arrow, anxiously twiddling her sticky fingers, while looking at this man before her. Lincoln looked back at her, curiously, noticing that not too dissimilar to himself, Lisa is actually— visibly nervous.

She walked up to him— her serious expression unchanging, much to her effort. She paused, very briefly, once she was close enough to touch him, and with one swift motion, she swiped his beanie from his head and stepped to the side like a matador.

He could have sworn it was sewn to his scalp the way it felt as she tore it off him, but he had no real time to react. It's not what he expected her to do, Hell he honestly didn't know what to expect right then, but he _should_ have expected her to figure it out sooner or later.

He opens his eyes wide, feeling suddenly naked, as all their mouths hang open and they tried to figure out what they're seeing.

What feels like hours goes by— everyone silently waiting for someone else to be the first to say something. That is until Leni rushes him. It startled everybody.

She leapt over the coffee table, grabbed him by the cheeks with two loud _slaps, _and stared intently— her eyes mere inches from his own. The family tensed up, and the many sisters got up from their seats and warily surrounded the two.

Lincoln looks back down to his big sister, his memories of her being so soft and lovable. Her hands warm and steady on the skin of his face. This Leni isn't the same as the one he remembers, not at the moment at least. At the moment, she's aggressive, serious, and even primal, in a way. If looks could kill, he'd be long gone.

She practically throws his face from her hands, and cups her mouth, backtracking and bumping bodies with Luna and Lucy. She makes a high pitched wail as she covers her face and her gushing tears.

She knows.

Lincoln finally speaks up, "Leni, I- I'm sorry. I didn't want it to go that poorly." He said that second sentence in strain, aiming his emotions more at himself this time though. "I should have planned something. I should have- _shit! _You all deserved better than that from me." His palms were upturned like a downtrodden beggar as he looked to the floor.

"Wait, wait, wait, now just hold on a second here, dude," Luna held up her hands to calm everyone, but her eyes stayed honed on Lincoln. Leni still cried freely— the main source of sound in the room. "Do you mean to tell us, that _you're_... that- that you're-" her raspy voice began to scrape against her increasingly dry throat, as she welled up with tears herself.

Lincoln looked back at Luna. He nods ever so slightly and speaks in a tone just above a whisper— just loud enough so they all can hear. "Yeah, Loons. It's me... I'm Lincoln." Even he struggled to compose himself, in an odd epiphanic moment of acceptance in what he just said. It almost echoed.

Each sister begins to react to it. Leni, Luna and Lana quickly embrace one another, Lucy and Lisa attempt to hold back emotional lurches in their chests and freshly budding tears, Lynn, Lola and Lori all curdle in slight embarrassment and ire, Luan stands stiffly in the back biting her lip, with her arms crossed and contemplating, and Lily stands wide eyed and glowing in sudden amazement, in contrast to her simultaneous curiosity as to why everyone is so sad about what should be so happy.

Lincoln sees it fit to explain a bit now. "I'm, uhh..." He clears his throat, "I'm really sorry I did it that way, girls. I guess.. I guess I don't know what came over me," he chuckles and lies self-preservingly. He still doesn't want them to know about _that_ side of him, if he can help it. He looks at each of them, trying to understand what they're thinking. He was about to speak some more but-

*_WHUMP_*

Lynn threw a clobbering right hook at his jaw, connecting solidly, and catching him off guard. He wears it, taking only one stabilizing step backward. He blinks twice and looks back at her. Everybody stopped. Some cupped their mouths, some gasped, but they all stood and watched in shock. Lynn and Lincoln looked only at each other, Lynn snaring with tear-wetted cheeks, and Lincoln with an untimely smirk— one of consideration and expectance. This smirk isn't of the rage the ones he wore earlier were, no, this one's of a knowing acceptance. He stands unfazed.

Lynn growls at his smirk despite that, but Lori grabs her arms and throws her backward to cool off, many of her siblings chiding her about the sudden violence. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Lynn screams at him, ignoring all of her other sibling's remarks. "Why would you- why would you do that? I- I don't-" she stammered and grabbed her face, starting to cry, but then surprisingly rushed forward through her sisters and hugged him tightly, in a tackling embrace. Leni, Luna and most of the rest of the girls follow suit to do the same, and Lincoln smiles, engulfed in the immediate, long familiar warmth, easily overlooking the hit he took.

Lori moves away from them, unsure. Out of habit, and rightfully so, she twitches a worried look to Luan in the hug, but remembers she's on her meds. She gets back on target, "Hold on, hey, hold on here, everyone!" Everyone looks at her, even her parents who had rushed up to the group. Lori looks back at them. "I'm sorry, but how do we even know this _is_ Lincoln?" She holds her hands up, and feels a deep desire to believe, but an even deeper one to know. Someone needs to be the voice of reason here.

Lisa, already on the outer edge of the group hug, shuffles back and moves toward Lori, rubbing her chin. She clears her throat, "Fair point, Lori." She adjusts her glasses, and is obviously attempting to right herself of her very preemptive emotional displays.

"Wait, Lisa!" Lily talks at her. "But you're the one who took his hat off!"

"That's true, Lily. I had a hunch and I needed to consummate it, but the fact that this possible Lincoln's hair is white, is no more evidence of him actually _being_ Lincoln, than the fact that they're both male. It's confirmation of only the possibility, but not of the certainty," Lisa explained. She sounded like she was hiding some disappointment. "I apologize, if my overtly flamboyant actions mislead anyone."

Now the rest aren't so sure either, as most of the girls and their parents slowly move away from Lincoln— some, like Lynn though, confused as a mouse in a maze without cheese, move away slower than the others. Everyone did move though, all except Leni. She clutches to him like a vice grip, insistent of her intuitive stance on the matter.

Leni speaks up. "This _is_ Lincoln. I know he is. I know it," she repeated, her arms still wrapped around him, defending him as if her life depended on it.

Lincoln stands, craning his neck to look down at his desperate sounding sister, with his hands slightly raised to his sides. He gently brings his arms down and around her shoulders and rubs her back. "No, no, Leni, thanks for believing me, but it's okay. I kind of expected you all to be doubtful." He scratches his increasingly scruffy chin, "Alright. Well, I need to prove myself somehow then." His placid features told the girls he was confident that he really would. "What do you want me to do?"

Some of the family members huddled together loosely and murmured ideas, while others thought on their own. Lily ran around and between them, listening and asking them questions, obviously not having any to ask this possible Lincoln, herself.

Lynn just went and sat on the coffee table, resting her head in her hands, worn out from overly abundant hormones and the confusing stress of the preceding mayhem.

Lisa spoke softly to Lori, "If it's not really him, this man could have information on Lincoln, on literally any and all aspects of his and our lives from nine years ago. If we ask him a question, say, a question that Lincoln and _only_ Lincoln would know, we have to be as precise as we can possibly be, otherwise we'll never really know for sure... That is, unless I do a DNA test."

Lori looked at her questioningly. "Lisa, you don't just test a stranger's DNA." She rubs the back of her neck and crosses her other arm over her chest in thought, "But I guess if we ask him, it wouldn't be-"

"Oohhh, damn." Lincoln said gruffly, like he had just thought of an idea he should have had sooner. He breathes a bit of laughter, and says "I think I know what to do about this."

He manages to detach Leni from his body, much to her disappointment, so she follows his every move with her hands at the very least caressing his sides, as he walks to the front door. The family watches him as he reaches in and digs around inside his coat pocket for something that's apparently proof of who he is.

What he pulls out is a small, black book. A journal really, faded, torn and used. Unrecognizable to even those who'd priorly be thought of as the most familiar to it.

He walks back to the center of the room, Leni still on his tail like a newborn duckling. He stops in the spot he was in a moment ago, and Leni hugs him again, as if nothing had even just changed. Lincoln flips open the journal, and skims through the many pages, just for show, until he's at the very front, on only the second page.

He clears his throat once again.

"_Solace Found:_

_Tired, aged and withered,_

_My steps faltered, but now I'm in it._

_Once blind, now nesciently untethered,_

_Safe from the road, and my spacious fit._

_Silk red hands smote me down,_

_At the end of a gold-less rainbow._

_Yet something's still behind my frown,_

_My chiseled longing with Calypso._

_A warmth ensues my suffered spirit,_

_Though in the place for I've sought so well,_

_The dark and futile is what I've known, see it,_

_And it's plagued to the gracious arms of hell._"

Everyone stood in contemplation and bewilderment. They tried to understand the words read to them, or why they, or it as a whole has any relevance here. Lincoln looked at them, still through his currently narrowed eyes, and coyly upturned his lips.

*_GASP*_

Lucy was standing alone near the fireplace. Everyone turned to look at her once they heard her, but she payed them no mind, and was just staring at this man's light blue eyes from behind her bangs with her mouth hung open.

Having been interrupted for this, Lori's curiosity for the poem raises and now she passes glances between Lucy and this white haired man with Leni still hooked on, and Lori sees this man smile a genuine smile. She can see a spark in his look that tells her he _does_ know Lucy knows what that poem is or what it means, but it's one she doesn't know herself. None of them do, besides them two, she'd guess.

There were some mixed reactions in the rest of the personal crowd, like they wanted to scoff at him or at even the thought of why they would ever recognize something as obscure as that. Some thought the absurdity of it was evidence enough of him not being the real Lincoln— that is, until they saw Lucy slam him with a hug on the opposite side of Leni and cry profusely. It was the most emotion they'd ever seen her show. She shoved her face in his shirt and didn't move it out, but that still couldn't hide her sobs. Lincoln put one arm around her and pulled her in tightly. He looked up to the group after a moment, with a slack smile. "Is that good enough for you?" He teased them sagaciously, feeling this was more than necessary.

Lincoln hesitates to say anything but does speak to her, looking down, lingering in his grin, and even Leni looks up at him, curiously. He speaks with a certain contentedness. "You dropped it that day in the park, Lucy. I picked it up to bring it to you but, well, I haven't really had a chance until now," Lincoln told her directly, waving the grayed and frayed journal around loosely for all others to see and understand. He looked up and spoke to them now, "There were only two poems in the book, and she'd read me the first one that morning. I didn't know about the second one when I picked it up, but I'd had plenty of time to get familiar with it over the years."

Lucy responded by burying her face in his side and letting her tears wet his shirt. They transitioned from silent to heart wrenching. The whole family listened on.

They all looked at one another— rapid tears spouting from their ducts as well, and Lily, then Lynn, Lana, Lola, Luna, Lisa, Luan, the Loud parents and even Lori quickly joined the hug. She embraced them, hoping to feel his body heat from the border of the hug, crying, confused, and tired. All that doubt the family held was practically gone now. Just... gone. They know that over these past nine years, if losing Lincoln wasn't enough to make Lucy cry openly and freely in front of them, the only thing that could actually bring her to this sort of reaction, would be getting him back. That's enough proof for them.

A cacophony of vocal cries are sounded from the flock of teary-eyed Louds, as the realization and acceptance of their long lost boy and brother, Lincoln, really— finally being home begins to sink in, only he's not a boy any more. He's as big as he told them he'd grow to be, so many years ago.

Their bodies almost fall to the floor, embraced in their animalistic group hug. They don't need anything but what they have right now: each other. Their forms meld together like a puzzle that found its missing piece. Lincoln moves his attention to each one of them, hugging his sisters and parents each, giving them each the silent, unbridled affection he knows they've been starved of for so long. He of all people can empathize with that. He knows a thing or two about... affection.

Instead of talking, they mob him again, together. Who could blame them?

After a literal half an hour of ugly crying and group hugging, on their knees and on the carpeted floor, Lincoln realizes he hasn't even really, officially greeted them yet. Not since the apparent confirmation, anyway.

He sniffles. "Okay, okay," he quickly, finally said, "Everyone, please let me look at you again."

A feminine, group groan is heard, but after a short time they relent and give way. He slips the poetry journal into his back pocket.

Lincoln runs his numb fingers through his damp hair, pushing it out of his face, and sighs contentedly. "Jesus, I'm sure glad that's all said and done now." He chuckles a bit, feeling that fuzziness in his chest you get after you cry a good cry, only he didn't shed a tear. "I'm sorry I made it so complicated..." Lincoln confessed.

"...I'm sorry I punched you."

Some of them laugh at the rare jest from Lynn, while some wipe away more tears and rub their sore cheeks. She looks embarrassed about it, even though he may have deserved it.

Lincoln walks towards the couch and sits down with a relaxed huff, and his family follows like a school of fish, drunk on the very water they're swimming in.

"Hi, Lincoln! I'm Lily." Unexpectedly, Lily stands forefront with her shoulders back, her chin up and a wide smile across her face. Her arm is stuck out straight, and her hand is eager for his. Her sisters and parents look on with knowing expressions.

Lincoln stops shifting and looks at the confident young person standing before him. He offers a cheeky smile in return, caught off guard but genuinely pleased by his youngest sister's forward attitude. He engulfs her small hand in his, matching the light but firm strength she shakes with. "Hi, Lily. I'm Lincoln," he replies. It is like meeting her for the first time.

For a moment, things seem to pause as he continues to look at her, seemingly unable to break away from her entrancingly familiar green eyes. She's so big now. She's wearing a lavender skirt with a black shirt, obviously still draped in her favorite shade as when she was an infant. Reminiscent in color to the Mother of Dragons, Lily's hair is down just past her shoulders, with a small bundle of strands braided and tucked behind her right ear, and there's a small tuft in the back that just won't go down all the way, just like he used to have at that age. Her few freckles and large front teeth, yet to be grown in to, remind him of his childhood reflection. Looking at her is just like looking into the past. It warms his heart to see her like this.

He lets go of her hand and moves his own to his knee. Looking at them all again, they seem to not know what to do, as they're all just sort of standing around him, ceaselessly enthralled and awkward, all the same. They look like they're biting their tongues, holding back from berating him with nine years worth of questions. He sees the sweat bleeding from their foreheads and off their arms like marbles. He also feels that since he essentially spied on them during the interview earlier, he probably already knows near everything they'd actually want to tell him about themselves, at least for the time being. Also, as much as he wants to ask them about that hardened look he still sees they have, and about why they seemingly left Pop-pop alone with only nice old Myrtle to help out, he holds back, returning the favor they're doing him. Although, now he does feel he may actually be at least part of the reason why. That's something hard to accept.

He opens his mouth and looks back to Lily, and then to the clock. _4:32pm_. He's been here longer than he thought.

*_Ding Dong_*

Most of them look to the front door. Lynn Sr. walks over to it and opens it up, allowing a blizzards worth of snowy air to sweep through the halls of their home and wind tunnel the hot air wafting around from the vents, to flow outside. The pizza man is standing, shivering in his hoodie and work wear, and is holding a large stack of boxed pies. "Delivery for the Loud family," he says, teeth chattering and all. He's lucky the doorbell didn't shock him.

"Oh, I completely forgot!" Lynn Sr. said, putting his palm flat against his forehead. "Rita, I placed that order for the pizzas this morning so we wouldn't have to worry about dinner tonight. Remember? We talked about doing that because of the interview." Lynn Sr. announced that, while grabbing the four large pies from the young man.

"Yes, Lynn, I remember, and it's perfectly fine with me. Kids? How does pizza sound?" Rita asked them enthusiastically at first, but then quieter this second time: "Lincoln? Is pizza fine with you?" She asked it as if she didn't remember her own son loved pizza.

For the entirety of the human species, in each practiced culture, there's some form of an inherent, special inclination to bond over and share meals, in one way or another. Whether that be because of some psychological fixation developed during evolution, or by mere happenstance, it is true nonetheless. It's a profoundly valued experience to us all. Tonight, Lincoln sees a shared meal with his family to be a good way of bonding over lost time, and to spare them all of the awkwardness currently lingering in the air.

Everyone looks to him. He gives her a firm nod in reply. "Sounds great, mom," he said, reassuringly.

That same lingering air started to clear like the breeze that blew in moments ago had finally swept it all away. The entire family looked as if they wanted to literally jump for joy on the inside— a jovial reaction to something so simple. Lincoln looked on at them, realizing he's feeling more and more relaxed. He's beginning to feel comfortable already. Odd.

He stands up and starts following his parents into the kitchen, practically feeling his sisters hounding breaths on his neck from behind him. As they walk through the door frame, Leni and Lynn grab onto him and pull opposite ways. Lincoln stands still, unmoved. Lynn and Leni look back at each other, then see Lola and Lana grab hold of his shirt, and everyone else try to pull him to their own seats. They begin to bicker and argue, and Lincoln can't help but smile.

"Girls! Enough with the tug o'war. Let you brother sit where he wants to sit," Rita scolded, as she sat at one head of the table across from her husband at the other.

After a moment they relented, again, and knowing what would happen, Lincoln quickly chose the chair right in front of him, in the center of this side of the table.

Immediately, they all jump forward on both sides of him, and begin their bouts of strength and acrobatics over the chairs. After some fierce tussling, Lynn victoriously sat to his left with Luna to her left, one over, and Lily sat to Lincoln's right, having slipped between her much larger sisters' grasps like butter, and Lola sat to her right as well, having claimed that for herself. Everyone else scattered around the table, but Lori had, instead of fighting, prudently claimed the seat directly across from him.

The lids to the pizza boxes flew open for their first supper together, but instead of scarfing it all down, they sat eagerly, with their arms flat on the table, looking to him as if for a sign of it being okay. Picking up on it, he chuckled once and shook his head, "Come on, don't wait for me. Eat." He reached out his arms and grabbed a few slices for himself.

Lincoln's father had apparently wandered out of the room a moment, but came back in holding two Budweiser's, freshly cracked open. He walked around and placed one in front of his son, then went and sat himself down, smiling to his own pleasure. He acted as if it were nothing, but it's probably something the man's always wanted, like most fathers, he imagines: to share a drink with his son. He'd given Lincoln sips of beer and whiskey as kid on occasion, but this is a whole different thing.

Lincoln grabs the cold bottle and takes a swig, enjoying the taste quite a bit. He looked to his mother, and then to Lori, both of whom were looking at his father with questioning expressions. He acted normally though, like he was trying to pay them no mind. He took a bite of pepperoni and a quick slug of beer to chase. Lincoln did the same, and wondered what had just gone over his head.

Over the next few hours, even after they finished their food, they remained at the table and carried on with their conversations, slowly but surely becoming more and more rhythmic and natural with one another— what with the readdition of one more head in the room. Lincoln though, for the most part, stayed quiet, as he now normally does, only cutting into conversations about the memories they discussed to ask questions every now and then and to clarify things. They were surprisingly focused on doing that instead of asking _him_ questions instead, not that he'd complain about that. He actually quite enjoyed it, just sitting, watching them all happily talk to one another, pointing at him and laughing about things they did together as children. It was just like they were back there again, in those good old days. He can honestly say he hadn't expected today to go from so chaotic to this smooth so quickly.

After a _long_ dinner of sharing memories, they were now discussing what to do until bed.

"We can play a board game," Leni suggested, happily.

"Nahhh, too mundane," Lola denied.

"We can have a tackle pillow fight," Lynn suggested, eagerly.

"No, not mundane enough," Lisa replied.

...

"How about we watch home movies?" Lily suggested.

A positive murmuring spread throughout the living room. Lynn Sr., whom the girls had gotten used to being in consistently foul moods over the past near decade, sprung up from his leather chair. "I'll get them out of the closet," he said, with a bit of excitement in his voice.

A minute later, he walks out with a box full of old CD's, small enough to fit in a cam-quarter. He dumps the contents on the coffee table and lets his kids sift through the debris.

All the CD's have some title or date written on them in black sharpie, indicating what they are. There are videos like: "Luna's 4th Birthday Party," "Lynn & Rita, Hawaii, 1997," "Lucy's 1st Poetry Recital," "Lincoln's Promise," "Lynn, UoM v Stanford," etc...

"Hey, how about this one?" Lana held up a CD that said "Lincoln's 11th Birthday Party."

Everyone seemed to like the idea, and Lincoln didn't voice any opposition. They watched and enjoyed the video, and a bunch more until well into the night, reveling in one another's company without any need of talking or catching up. They all know they've lived hard lives, that needs not be said, and their curiosities have still yet to get the better of them. Though, one could argue that not talking about an issue or problem is just a means of increasing the tension built up to the moment when the discussion finally takes place. The longer people sit on and ignore the frictions separating them, the harder and harder they are to overcome.

After a few hours, the Loud parents began to fade, against their wills. They both started yawning repeatedly, and, as _direly_ as they want to spend more time in the mere presence of their long lost son, they reluctantly, but wisely elected to get up and go to bed. All they had to do was look at each other to know what the other was thinking.

They're getting older.

They both push themselves out of their seats, Rita from her cramped spot on the couch and Lynn Sr. from his leather chair.

"Alright, kids, your mother and I are going to bed."

"_Goodnight_," the girls said, casually, dismissively, and not tiredly in the slightest.

"Now, now, just hold on a second, girls." Rita shakes her finger at them, making even the older ones look at her and her well knowing tone. She wouldn't be petty enough to voice her envy at her daughter's ease at staying up late. She knows she'll get to spend more time with her baby boy tomorrow, but actually feel good doing it. She gets back on topic, "It's late, and even though your brother is- even though Lincoln is finally, actually... _really_ sitting right there," still in disbelief, she gestures to him sitting in the middle of the couch, practically buried underneath his sisters, but she reaffirms her tone, "but," she clears her throat, "but even though we're fortunate enough for that to be the case, I don't want to see you be too tired to function tomorrow."

She puts her fists on her hips, and her husband walks up to her and puts his gentle hand on her back with his head pointed down at their room, but she continues. "What I mean is, we're going to let you young ones stay up with your brother, okay, but don't make us regret it in the morning. Lori, can-"

"Don't worry, mom. I'm on top of it." Lori replies, evenly.

"Alright then," Lynn Sr. says, and then, "Goodnight, loves." He said it tiredly though. Rita says the same to their kids, in her own words.

Lincoln climbs out of the couch before his sisters know it, and stands up reactively— covetingly. He takes two steps towards his parents and holds his arms out wide.

They both exhale, touched by his thoughtfulness and his apparently ever affectionate being. In the back of their thoughts, they wish they could lay claim to raising him as such, but they know they can't. Not for all of it, at least.

They hug him back, tightly and passionately, and tell him they love him and missed him as if the world were on fire, but stop before letting themselves cry again. They then walk into their bedroom and close the door for the night, but do lose a few more tears behind it.

Lincoln looks back down at the couch and his many sisters. They smile at him meekly, and pat the middle cushion of the couch, indicating they're not done with him yet. He grins and feels flattered because of it. He's not used to this anymore, and he's going to have to work on that.

As he goes to sit back down and re-submerge himself in their abundant love, he notices the laptop Lisa is on. Right when he turned around, she changed the tab, but he could have sworn the tab she closed had a picture of him on it.

"Hey, Lisa, what was that?" He's open about his suspicions with no reservation, feeling it easiest to be open about it now.

Lisa looks up at him, dumbfounded at his quick and astute vision. She was about to rebut, but gives in for some reason. How he noticed it, she'll never know. She sighs. "Well, if you must know," she reopens the tab she had closed, and there is a picture of him at around ten or eleven on screen. The other girls all look as well. "I tested your DNA," she said flatly.

Some of the girls groan at her, and act annoyed she would still do that at this point, but not Lincoln.

Lisa responds to her sisters noises, "Yes, yes, reprimand me, say what you will, but a simple poem is not enough proof for me. I had hoped you all would feel the same, but evidently not... That poem and Lucy's reaction were very touching and telling, I admit, but now that my emotional high is wearing down, _erhm_," she rubs her throat as she clears it, "I can think logically. If it's any consolation, this _is_ the real Lincoln. _Our_ Lincoln."

Lincoln chuckles at her attempts of defending he and herself. He defends her right back, "Girls, Lisa is right. As much of a coincidence of me having Lucy's old journal was, it really wasn't proof. Lisa's right to want to know. She's just being herself, so you all shouldn't scold her for it."

Lisa is also surprised and honestly, a bit taken aback by his response. It was thoughtful and very defensive. She feels it necessary to say something. "Well, I'm glad you see it my way, Lincoln," she responds.

Lincoln nods to her, then sits back in his crevice of the couch as if nothing had happened, completely taking this moment back to the new house normal. The sisters, some of them at least, still have furrowed brows of annoyance, but make themselves move on because of their brothers words. It does make sense though, in her defense.

A few more hours go by, sitting quietly and contentedly, until all that's good on tv are reruns of _Seinfeld_, _MASH_, and _Married with Children_.

Eventually, Lincoln lifts his head off the back of the couch, and looks around the room. Everyone here is asleep, he notices, and with ease in the pores of their skin. All of them except for Lily. She looks wired and somehow wide awake.

He looks at her a few moments, longer than he realized, he guesses, because she looks back up at him. She's holding an iPad or some other type of tablet, and the screen is dimly reflective on her face. He suddenly feels out of place, but doesn't react before she reaches her tablet out to him in an offering. He looks at it, and hesitates, but he does reach out and take it. He turns the screen upright in his hands, and looks at what's on it.

It's him.

Not just him though, she actually drew them all, picturesquely, in the time they've been sitting here. The image is of each of their profiles from her view on the end of the couch, and how they must look facing the tv. They're smiling, and are wrapped around one another. It's drawn with thin, vibrant lines on a black background, and their favorite colors they each normally wear, make up their outlines. Lincoln doesn't know too much about art, besides comic books, but from everything else he's seen, this must be pretty damn good for a ten year old's sketch.

He looks up admiringly. "This is fantastic, Lily," he whispered, baffled, and her cheeks blush as she smiles in the darkness.

Luna stirs in her place, probably from the new soft noise, and she reaches up and down, stretching her tight back and core. She moved enough to rustle Lucy, apparently, which then caused an inevitable chain reaction. And suddenly the Louds were all made awake again. Groggy and half asleep, but awake.

Lola's the first to stand up in her doziness, probably wanting proper beauty sleep in her bed. She helps Lana stand, pulling her up by the hand, and Luna and Lynn stand as well, then they all follow suit.

Lori looks at her phone and sees it's _12:47am_, and she also has four missed calls from Bobby. Much too late to drive all the way back to the city, and too late to call her workaholic fiancé, she simply texts him. '_sorry i missed your calls. everything is...more than fine. we have to talk tomorrow. i have big news..._' That'll suffice for now. She speaks up to her siblings. "Where's everyone going to sleep tonight?" She asked.

Lisa rubs her eyes under her glasses. "Well, two of you can take the couch. Mom and dad decided to buy a fold out, two months ago, after aunt Shirley popped the air mattress."

Lori rubs her eyes as well. "Okay, that works. Luna, Lynn, if Leni and I share the couch, where will you both sleep?"

Luna looks at her. "Don't worry 'bout me, sis, I'm cool. Our old bunk bed is still in Luan's room," she said, pointing behind her with her thumb. She yawns, "Where is she, anyway?" She then walks up the stairs, and is the first one of them to do so, though smacking her brother with a sloppy kiss on the cheek first, making him flinch away and chortle. He used to hate when she did that when he was a kid. Now he doesn't so much mind.

"Lynn can sleep in my bed. I recently bought a new coffin, and I've been sleeping in it since it arrived," Lucy kindly said. She apparently hasn't grown out of that yet. Guess it's not a phase afterall.

Lynn, in her own daze, patted Lucy on the back and thanked her, appreciatively. They both then begin to head upstairs too, first hugging and kissing Lincoln as Luna did, too, not caring in the slightest at the moment about showing genuine affection. Normally, they still both would care, but it just feels right, right now.

Lori looks around the room, as they head upstairs, followed by Lola, Lana, and even Lisa, who all did the same to Lincoln as their older sisters. Leni already took the cushions off the couch, and began unfolding it. She's humming to herself in apparent glee. That's something Lori definitely notices. It's rare these days.

Lori turns to Lincoln. "I guess.. would you be fine in your old room? It's probably too small for you now, but I think it's pretty much the same as it was." She said that in an almost motherly tone.

"He can sleep with us, down here!" Leni nearly yelled at them, excitement clear in her voice.

Lori smiled sheepishly at her innocent sister.

Lincoln chuckles again, and says "Thanks, Leni, but this bed's just a bit too small for the three of us." He looks back to Lori. "I'll be fine upstairs, Lore. Thanks for the concern though." He looks around, trying to spot Lily but doesn't find her. _She must've gone upstairs already_, he thinks. "I'm going to head up too, I guess," he tells his oldest sisters.

Lori walks to him and hugs him tightly— lovingly, her cheek pressing against his collar bone. She inhales and recognizes his faint, familiar smell; not something she anticipated remembering. She moves up and pecks him on the forehead, making him bend down so she can do so. He smiles at her and feels a certain twinge of happiness from it. Then, Lincoln walks over and hugs Leni too, or more accurately, Leni hugs him like an anaconda, berating him with affectionate kisses, and never wanting to let him go. "I knew it was you," she whispered into his ear, standing on her tip-toes.

Lincoln smiles fondly at her. How she knew, he doesn't have any idea.

He tells them both he loves them and missed them, and they then watch him as he ascends the stairwell, heading up to his old room he hasn't seen for nine years. Nine years. That's something the girls thought they'd never see again.

As Lori begins to put on the covers, she still can't help but be a little worried. She accepts that's Lincoln, she honestly does thanks to Lisa, but they don't know a thing about him. Nobody asked him about where he's been, nobody asked him where he came from, and that's cause for alarm as it is. Saying he's different would be the understatement of the century. Despite his apparently ever remaining kindness... he's big, and intimidating, and not to mention... sort of disconcerting. She doesn't quite know why that is yet though. As she gets in bed, she grows concerned for her younger siblings. He's going to be right there: with easy access to any one of them while they sleep. Shit, he could be a lunatic now for all Lori or the rest of the Loud's know.

It makes her want to have a talk with him tomorrow.

Upstairs, Lincoln looks down the hall once he reached the top. He looks around at the open doors and wonders how the rooms have changed for their new inhabitants. The hall light was off, so the only light was emanating from the bedrooms and the bathroom nightlight. He turns and looks at his own door. It shouldn't be so daunting. After all, it's just a closet, though he does feel hesitant to go in.

Just then he notices some music. It comes from Luna's and Luan's old room. Maybe Luna still listens to music before bed. That is something she would do. Not surprising to him at all, since she is a literal rock-star. The music carries through the hall.

_Beat the clock. Try to make it stop_

_Before time can draw the line_

_And cut you down to her size_

He takes a few steps forward, and stops at what he remembered to be Lisa's and Lily's door. It was open, and some lights were on inside, but he knocked anyway. They both look, Lisa swivels in her desk chair, and Lily was flipping through a sketch pad.

_Beat the clock. Try to make it stop_

_Tell me how long will it take_

_Before you finally realize_

_That the carnival is over_

_And you've seen much better days_

Lincoln holds up the iPad. "Hey, Lily, you forgot you left this with me." Lincoln looks at her and the wall behind her, and all around her bed. It's completely covered in all sorts of paintings, colored drawings, and sketches, even on the ceiling for her half of the room. Lisa's half was more like a bedroom than the giant chemistry set it was years ago. She probably expanded her lab under the basement and moved everything there.

_You have wasted too much time_

_Into many different plays_

Lily jumps off her bed, already wearing her pajamas, and walks to him quickly. "Thanks, big brother!" She speaks with her eyes too, reminiscent of her as a baby.

_You deny the possibility_

_Of growing old_

_You are filled with false humility_

_You're much too bold_

Lincoln smiled at hearing that and seeing her. It's still such a pleasant sound, and it makes him remember how nice of a ring it used to have when he was Lily's age. It still does ring like a church bell. He missed it.

_Beat the clock. Try to make it stop_

_Before time can draw the line_

_And cut you down to her size_

Lily tossed her iPad onto her bed, and quickly ran back up to him, grabbed his hand and lead him into the hall, Lisa observing all the while. Lily closed her room door behind them, so Lincoln knew something was obviously about to happen. She looked to his closed door and then to him. "Lincoln, can I ask you a question?"

_Beat the clock. Try to make it stop_

_Tell me how long will it take_

_Before you finally realize_

"Sure, Lily," he replied, wanting her to like him. He knelt down to be eye to eye with her, curious of what it is she's about to say.

_That you're in this game same as me_

_Although you think you're not_

Lily looked to all the bedroom doors, and listened carefully for a moment. She spoke in just above a whisper, "I just- I just really want to know where you were all this time." She said that pleadingly, looking at the ground, like she felt bad about it. "Nobody would tell me, and they told me not to ask you about it before dinner, and I'm sorry, but I really, really want to know. I'm sorry." She genuinely seemed to be.

_When you try to rise above it all_

_You get just what you got_

Lincoln wetted his lips, and exhaled slowly. He had expected someone would ask him at some point early on, but he figured it would be Lisa or his parents or one of his oldest sisters— not his youngest, ten year old sister. He started to think about how to answer her, with tremendous difficulty. He has to be careful. He looked at her, and made an impulse decision. "I... I traveled. I traveled across the entire the world, Lily," he managed, and hid his solemnity, only misleading her.

_It seems to me you're slipping_

_You seem slightly unnerved_

_When you finally see yourself_

_You get what you deserve_

Lily's eyes opened wide, and she voiced a fragile gasp at his words. She began to smile a large, toothy smile— one that could make your cheeks cramp.

_Beat the clock. Try to make it stop_

_Before time can draw the line_

_And cut you down to her size_

He could tell that she was about to ask multiple follow up questions but he cut her off first. He gently put one hand over her soft lips, and one finger up to his own. He looked back down the hall, then whispered some more, thinking quickly, "But, Lily, that's going to be our little secret for now, okay? Just for a little while. I'll... I'll tell everyone where I went at some point soon. Okay?"

_Beat the clock. Try to make it stop_

_Tell me how long will it take_

_Before you finally realize_

Lily nodded eagerly, and gave her brother the OK sign with her right hand, probably trying to play it cool to her cool new big brother. She's ecstatic she finally gets to know him. Just finally being in his presence makes her whole body tingle like never before.

_That the carnival is over_

_And you've seen much better days_

_You have wasted too much time_

_Into many different plays_

Lincoln nodded, extremely relieved. Then he stands up, gives Lily a wink, and gets one back from her, then he finally heads to his room. He quickly opens and closes the door behind him, turns on the light and goes to sit on his bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, and sighs with one hand pressed against his chest, as he looks about his things, as if he's in a very small museum. Everything is exactly where he left it, as far as he can remember, but a bit dusty now. Looks like they never changed a thing. He shifts his gaze to the book on his dresser— the gift he got from Lisa for his eleventh birthday. He picks it up and brushes off the dust, then slips Lucy's old poetry journal out of his pocket and puts it down in its place. _The Count of Monte Cristo_. He lays back on his bed and opens it to the first page. He'd never had a chance to read it before.

_You deny the possibility_

_Of growing old_

Luan was the last one awake tonight. She stood idly in her door frame, after remaining speechless and distant all evening, and just wondered. She wondered what would happen if she went in Lincoln's room right now. What would he say? What would she say? He hadn't hardly looked at her all day, besides their sole hug, hours ago. _Ugh_ it felt so good. She wonders if he'd noticed her not being there, if he missed her like she missed him. She flicks her sights at Lily's and Lisa's room, then right back to Lincoln's. She looked back down to the hard floor, her eyes now dimming like a candle. She exhaled slowly, unevenly, then went in her room, and closed the door behind her.

_You are filled with false humility_

_You're_ _much_ _too_ _bold_


End file.
